Of Cowards and Heroes
by Laren Goldstar
Summary: AU James grabbed Lily’s arm and yanked her roughly to him. “You take that back, Evans,” he hissed. “Take that back.” If James never actually died but Harry still grew up with the Dursleys, where has James been? JPLE, JPOC NEW CHAPTER UP!
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer**: I own what you do not recognize. And nothing more.

**A/N:** a plot bunny that hit me today with so much force that it was more like a plot jackhammer. Hope you enjoy

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 1

"Adéla," he told her, trying hard not to betray the excitement in his voice. "Have you been…well, lately? Not sick, I hope?"

She turned a slightly scornful look on him, but he thought that he detected a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "_Sick?"_ she asked incredulously. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

He leaned back on their bed, and smirked at her. She should know better than to lie to him. He'd done so much of it when he was younger that he'd practically turned into a human lie detector. Her voice, with its slight shake at the end, had been the giveaway, and so now he pounced, tackling her until she was pinned beneath him, shiny curls of copper spilling out on the pillow underneath her head.

"Adéla," he smiled down at her, now, leaning closer to place small kisses her neck, shoulders, and lightly, so very lightly, on her exposed stomach. She frowned up at him, noting with obvious unease the amount of attention he was lavishing upon her midsection.

"Stop that," Adéla pouted slightly, and it worked; soon his lips were on hers, and she smiled contentedly into their kiss. He still hadn't stopped caressing her stomach, though, and, unnerved, she pushed him off. "Look, you know I'm ticklish," she said, with a small laugh to cover her discomfort.

Frustrated now, he scowled and sat back at the foot of the bed, eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "Why don't you tell me, Déla?"

The woman across from him sighed; she knew what he meant. Why did he have to bring this up now, when everything was going so well? In a few more days she would have taken care of it, and he would never have to have known.

Just then his face darkened, and she knew that she'd spoken her thoughts. "James," she called after him, but he had already left their room. Determination etching itself onto her features, she followed him, not bothering to look inside the house for him. She knew where he had gone. Damn. It was raining outside, and as she looked into the coat closet, his black jacket was hanging beside hers. "Figures…" she muttered to herself, and left the house.

He knew that she'd come after him. Adéla was a firm believer in never going to bed angry with one's lover. Not one for leaving any loose ends, their fights were always resolved quickly, as she hated any drawn out hard feelings. And yet he couldn't help but feel resentful towards her, this woman he was going to marry. The woman who was carrying his child, or so it seemed. The three pregnancy tests in their bathroom rubbish bin had said as much, and he'd noted how unusually vibrant she had been lately, her whole body so _alive_ with energy that he'd been amazed she hadn't come to him to announce the good news straight away. It wasn't as if he didn't like children. He'd always told her that he wanted children. And she'd always smiled, kissed him, and agreed that it would be wonderful, one day.

But it had been a month since he'd found the tests, and she still hadn't said anything to him about it. Not one word, not until now.

"James?" she called, and, dripping wet and feeling resigned, he turned around. Sure enough, she was there with his coat, holding it out to him and looking apologetic. "I…I had an…appointment…" he flinched and turned away again, but she caught his hand and squeezed it, turning him towards her. "I'm sure you know what it was for, but…I'll cancel it, and we can talk about this…I just thought you felt the same way I did about it! I love you, James…and I want to make you happy."

And as he looked at her, the world blurred for a moment. Her words echoed through what seemed like an age until another, long since unheard but never forgotten voice was speaking them instead. The rain stopped, and Adéla's hair became redder, her eyes green, and her figure more slender. "James?" his wife implored him, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

"Lily," he said gently. "I love you Lily…you already make me happy! I like things the way they are….with you and me, here, in this house…things are just perfect. We're too young, Lils. I don't know if we're ready – if _I'm_ ready for this. I….love you, but I don't know if I want this baby."

A particularly large raindrop fell on his bare head then, and he realized that it was not his twenty-year old self who had spoken those last words, but the now equally drenched woman standing in front of him. Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of his momentary trip to the past, but Adéla had already continued.

"And you told me yourself that years ago, when you were married…you didn't think you were ready to have a child. Well, I'm young, James, and I don't think that I'm ready."

James simply stared at her, wordlessly reaching for the jacket she held in a still outstretched hand. They began to walk back to their home in silence, James slipping his hand into hers halfway. Now matter how much she annoyed him, no, even with _this_…this new _development_, he couldn't stay too far away from her. Once at home, though, he knew that there was no escaping it. And really, he could easily see her point of view. She _was_ young, only 24 to his 36, and quite literally fresh out of university. They'd only been together for a couple of years…so it was perfectly normal for her to want to spend more time just with him before any children came into the picture. It was all too possible that she simply wasn't ready yet. Merlin knows he hadn't been. Then again, at twenty, he hadn't been ready for a lot of things. 'But that's life,' he mused, as he slid into bed beside her, pulling her body close to his. 'It's what sets apart the brave and the cowards…those who throw themselves into living anyway, and those who can't take it and run.'

In the very back of his mind, James knew which one he was. And just like always, he found that he really didn't care.

**A/N**: Please tell me what you think...it means a lot. Any ideas or thoughts are greatly appreciated! - Laren


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own what you do not recognize.

A/N: hey, you liked it! I hope this chapter answers some questions – oh who am I kidding – this'll probably confuse you even further! Just a heads up; in this chapter I skip through time and space quite a bit, and will do so throughout the rest of the story. I hope you like it, though.

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 2

"…I should go back…" the man thought, and just like always, did nothing about it.

* * *

"Just leave me alone, alright?" the boy demanded imperiously, but the effect was ruined by the crack in his voice halfway through. The group surrounding him burst into wild laughter, prolonged by one of their members mimicking the boy in the middle. Harry, who had been strolling by with Remus Lupin, stood frozen in his tracks, unable to tear his eyes away as the laughter finally died down, only to be replaced by taunts and barbs. Normally he would have just walked away very quickly, such a scene reminding him forcibly of being teased by Dudley's gang, but now, now as he watched the lanky teen bullied by a group of four teenagers, he simply felt sick. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him, and he would have stumbled was it not for the strong, steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Harry?" came the kind voice of his former professor, and slowly, Harry tore his eyes from the scene before him and turned to look at Remus, who was staring at him with a pained look on his tired face. "Harry, why don't we head back to the Dursleys?"

Harry nodded dumbly, and allowed himself to be led back towards Privet Drive, staring at the road beneath his feet as he walked. Later, at the door as they said goodbye, Harry apologized for cutting their walk short. "I'm really sorry, Professor," he began. "I just saw those boys…and…"

Remus, however, shook his head at him. "We make a lot of mistakes when we're young, Harry. Often we have no idea of the kind of impact our actions can have on someone else's life."

For a second, Harry recalled the scene from Snape's Pensieve, and felt slightly queasy as he recalled his father's actions towards Snape. Steeling himself, he forced the memory down, and looked up at the older man. "Yeah, I know. And…" his voice brightened. "You and…you and Sir…you said he changed, right? That he…grew up, after a while."

Remus looked relieved, and smiled at Harry. "Yes, he did. Your dad was a great man, Harry. Yes, he made mistakes; he was, of course, human like the rest of us, but still, one of the greatest friends I ever had. He and Lily, Harry…they always believed in me."

Harry grinned stupidly up at him. Later on that night, when he was alone, the doubts would creep back into his mind as the dark settled, but for now, he could forget what he'd seen and momentarily enjoy his childhood fantasy of his father, the hero. "Yeah." He told Remus, who smiled and said that he'd better be on his way. Harry walked him to the door, watching him as he left.

"You know, Harry," Remus turned around, suddenly, halfway down the drive, and called back to him. "Harry, your parents loved you. And there are many who love you now." He smiled, and continued on down the walk, finally disappearing round a corner.

Harry shut the door and went upstairs to his room; thankful that Remus' visit had at least inclined the Dursleys to leave him alone. Feeling quite exhausted he collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep soon after his head hit the pillow. For the first time in weeks he slept dreamlessly, waking up to a new, bright day full of sunshine. But as he lay in bed, the sunlight streaming in through the threadbare curtains, he found he couldn't quite rid himself of the pained expression on Remus' face as Harry watched the bullying. And he knew that no matter how hard he tried, no matter what else he knew about his parents, his cherished heroic ideal of his father had left him forever, and with that so many other things that he had once taken as indefeasible fact were suddenly crumbling away. Frowning, he swung himself out of bed, grabbed a quill and parchment and began to write to Remus. He needed answers.

* * *

"Remus! Hi, come on in! Oh, you've come to help us pack, thanks so much."

Remus grinned at the very pregnant young woman in front of him. "No problem, Lily." He told her, stepping inside the small flat that she and James lived in. Bending down, he placed a feather-light kiss on her round stomach, eliciting a giggle from the redhead. "Hullo, baby." He said softly, and chuckled when he was rewarded with a small kick.

"Hey, no getting him excited…" Lily trailed off, slapping herself for her slip up.

"So it's a Prongs Junior!" Remus straightened up, looking delighted.

"Yes, it's a boy." James answered him, coming out of the kitchen to join them in the hall. "Nice going, Lils."

Lily flushed slightly before tossing her head and playfully punching James in the arm. "I'll be in the bedroom, boys. Remus, please make sure that they actually get some work done."

"Will do, Lily," he responded, earning himself a scowl and a mouthed "traitor!" from James. Remus rolled his eyes; he was well used to having to keep his more exuberant friends in check. Shaking his head, he followed James into the kitchen, who was promising Lily that they were _already_ hard at work. Lily, however, was having none of it, and ushered them none to gently inside the small, brightly lit room before turning to go down the hall.

"Hard at work, eh, Prongs?" Upon entering the haphazard room Remus found he couldn't help the small jibe and so had to duck a flying dishcloth.

"Well, of course he's been a fat load of nothing," a voice from inside the fridge declared. "When I got here all he'd done was dump all the dishes on the table."

"And then you…" Remus prompted, rolling up his sleeves and discerning which dish he should pack first.

"I," Sirius began, finally emerging from the depths of the refrigerator Lily had insisted on buying. "Have been busy at work clearing out this here…here…_appliance_."

"He means he's been stuffing his face," James supplied helpfully. "Anyway, Moony, we're really glad you could make it. You've been away so much lately that we didn't think you'd be able to help us with the move to the new house."

"Just listen to him," Sirius cut in, smirking. " 'the move to the _new house_'. He's right proud, he is."

Remus laughed as he carefully placed a bowl inside. "He should be," he said. "Yes, sorry about that…I've just been really busy lately."

"Yeah, you have," James said, looking at him strangely before shaking his head and turning back to work.

Remus, feeling uncomfortable with the attention on him, stopped and looked at the two men. "Speaking of being away, where's Peter? I haven't seen him much lately either."

"He's working late at Zonko's again." Sirius piped up. "Me an' Prongs went by earlier on when Lily kicked us out."

"Kicked you out?" Remus, asked, bewildered. "What did you do?"

"Thanks, Moony," James muttered dryly. "Such a pal – did you hear the man, Padfoot – '_What did we do?_' As if we would ever do anything that necessitated removal!"

Remus stared unconvinced at the two, both of which wore highly offended expressions on their faces before breaking into wide grins.

"Yes, yes we would," James admitted. "But not today, though…Lily had a baby shower today."

"A _what_?" Remus questioned.

"That's what I said, mate." Sirius said, pulling out one of the few unoccupied chairs at the table before lazily seating himself.

"Er…it's complicated. Some Muggle custom." James explained, and Remus let it go. "It was her friends, really, all of em, squealing their heads off."

"Hang on," Remus ventured cautiously. "Is a baby shower in any way similar to a wedding shower?"

James looked thoughtful; Sirius was preoccupied with a rather sharp looking cleaver. "I dunno, you know. I wasn't allowed to that one, either. Who knows?"

"Ah," Remus said, feeling a flood of relief wash over him; it might have been something he was supposed to have brought a gift for, and as tight as funds were, James and Lily were some of his closest friends. He'd have been more than happy to get a gift for Prongs Jr.

A grin breaking out across his face, he looked across the room at James. "So, Prongs Jr, eh?"

Sirius's head snapped up, the knife falling to the floor. "It's a _boy_?" he demanded. "Since when did this happen?"

"Well, lets see," James mused thoughtfully. "Lily's due in a month, so that would be…eight months ago."

"Prat." Sirius scowled. "You know what I meant."

James, however, had ceased to pay much attention to his surroundings. "I'm going to have a son," he said, a small half-smile on his face as he mused. "I'm going to be a father."

* * *

"I was going to be a father."

Adéla sighed in frustration. "James, I cancelled the appointment, alright? I'm still pregnant. We're still having a baby. I'm sorry about this whole thing…I know…I was wrong not to talk to you about it. I was just so…scared."

James shook his head and smiled gently at her. "Yeah, I know the feeling. But, Déla, you don't have to be scared. I'm here; I do want this baby – and even if we decide…if we decide…well, lets just say that... Look. We're getting married. We need to be able to talk about this."

Adéla bowed her head slightly before sitting down heavily on the living room sofa, burying her head in her hands. "I just wanted to make this all easier. I know…I chickened out, was going to take the easy way out…and now, I screwed this all up, didn't I?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Adéla's head snapped up; James was staring at her, challenging her. "So?" he asked her. "What about it? You messed up, Déla, yes, you did. All you had to do was tell me…do you really want to marry me, Déla? Don't you think that we should tell each other these kind of things?"

"Yes!" she was crying now, but James had stepped closer to her and tilted her head up so that her gaze met his. "James, why are you doing this? We talked about this, didn't we? You know that I'm sorry! I do want to marry you, James – but if you don't, why don't you just say it, then. Stop doing this to me!"

Suddenly his gaze softened, and he bent his head to hers, kissing her tears away. "Déla, Déla, I'm sorry; yes, I very much still want to marry you. I just want you to be able to tell me why you're so scared."

Her tears subsided, and she leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around her body. "James," she haltingly began after a few seconds had passed. "James, you're a wizard. A good one, too. Me, though…I'm a squib. You know this."

James pulled away, realization dawning in his eyes as he looked at her. "Oh Merlin," he whispered. "If the baby's magical…your family…oh no, no."

"Yes," Adéla told him, her voice shaking slightly. "James, you know what will happen."

James did know, all too well. Heart pounding, he pulled Adéla close to him again, holding her as a fresh batch of tears erupted. What would they do now? He'd already ran once, ran to where he thought he'd be safe from it all, and yet, here he was again. _At least that settles it_, he thought to himself. _I now have a certified reason to stay away._

'Yeah,' his mind responded. 'And a sixteen-year old reason to go back.'

And just like always, he did nothing about it.

A/N: To my lovely reviewers…thank you so much, you absolutely made my day. To **tweeny-weeny, Lovin'Moony, Lenise, Draco vs. Romance, xDragonxTearsx**; thanks for reviewing! I hope this update came soon enough (but I might not always be so prompt!). **Cherrysinger**, Lily..well, Lily is not alive, I'll say that much. As for Harry, I'll do my best. **StonySilence**; I agree entirely. I hate the fact that they always bond so very well – you can rest assured that nothing of the sort will be happening here – at least, not unrealistically.

Once more, any thoughts, ideas, comments greatly appreciated – Laren.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own what you do not recognize, J.K. owns the rest.

A/N: And at last, inspiration has struck….actually, it was the review I got today that really spurred me into action – so thanks for all your input, people! Much like last time, this will confuse you even further, and skip wildly through space and time. It's a shorty, but necessary so you get certain key facts. Enjoy! (I hope) _note: this is a repost, with some dates added for clarification. This story isn't just a bunch of rambling – it all links together, I promise!_

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 3

_England, 1980_

"Just…get her away – get it away, Michael. I don't care what you do."

The eight-year-old girl looked up at the elegantly dressed woman, eyes wide with horror. She couldn't possibly be referring to her, could she? Just the day before, some men had come to the house, poking and prodding her for the better part of an hour, running all kinds of spells, whilst her mother and father watched from the door. Then the men had left, their faces grave as they informed her parents that they'd send the 'results' the next day.

And now, here she was, her father yanking her roughly down the grubby side street. They must have apparated, she thought, longing for the day when she was finally old enough to apparate. Suddenly they turned down a small alleyway, and she was shoved against a wall, the coat she was wearing pulled off of her before she had a chance to protest.

"Daddy?" she asked, perplexed. "Daddy? What's going on?"

Before she knew it, she was on the ground, reeling from the slap across her face. "Don't call me that!" her father hissed. "You have no right to call me that! You've already ruined my life once – you won't do it again!"

"Daddy!" she cried this time, tears running down her cheeks as he turned and walked swiftly down towards the end of the alley. "_Daddy!"_

"You're not my daughter, understand?" the tall, black-haired man had turned around, eyes gleaming malevolently. "You're nothing."

He spun back around, his robe swirling around him seconds before he apparated, disappearing into thin air before her disbelieving eyes.

A few minutes later, an old, dirty looking man came into the alley, rifling through the piles of rubbish there, She shrunk back, his noisy disturbance knocking her out of her shock. As she watched him, she began to smirk, pitying him, the _Muggle_, without any…_magic_…She sat up ramrod straight, knocking over a bag in the process.

"Eh?" the man said, startled. "Who's there?"

When nobody answered, he went back to his work, soon finding what he was looking for and shuffling out of the alley. Left by herself in the gloom, she finally knew the truth. She was a squib. And now, Adéla Zabini was all alone.

* * *

_Hogwarts, 1972_

"Prongs?"

Sirius frowned. He'd just proposed what he thought to be an absolute stroke of genius – an idea that he'd been certain would have his best friend practically running down to the Slytherin dormitories to carry it out. Yet there had been no response from James's bed.

"Prongs, you prat – were you even listening to me?"

When there was still no answer, Sirius stormed over to James's bed, yanking the curtains open. "Oi! Potter! I'm your best mate! You can't just…Prongs? Er, James?"

James was sitting silently on the edge of his bed. "They're dead." He whispered, so quietly that Sirius wasn't sure if he'd heard properly.

"James?" he asked again, much more subdued. "Did you just say…"

"Abby. Ellen. Aunt Juliana. Ellen was looking after Abby for mum and dad, and she took her to see Aunt Jules…and…"

Whoa, Sirius thought, this was _not_ the time to talk about pranking the Slytherins. "James? Do you…do you, I dunno, do you…want to…er…"

James slowly turned his head to look at Sirius, his face aged beyond its twelve years with exhaustion. "Maybe….maybe you could just leave me alone for a bit, Padfoot."

Sirius's mouth was suddenly dry, and so he simply nodded, silently leaving the room. Shaking his head, he walked heavily down the stairs, greeted at the bottom by Remus and Peter.

"Hullo – Padfoot?" Remus face quickly took on a concerned expression at the lack of exuberance his friend was displaying. Peter eyed him nervously, expecting an outburst about Sirius's extreme dislike of his family.

"Don't go upstairs yet," he said, pulling them towards a quiet area of the common room. "Prongs just got some news from home…you know his little sister, Abigail?"

They nodded, and he took a deep breath, continuing. "Well, James's cousin Ellen was looking after her – and he said that they went to see her mum, his aunt Jules-"

"Wait a second," Peter interrupted. "Isn't that his Aunt Juliana? The one who's a Malfoy?"

Remus frowned, and Sirius stared at Peter. Who knows, he thought. Maybe that's why...

"Well, she _was_ a Malfoy." He said slowly. "They're all dead, now."

* * *

_Canada, 1994_

"Oh, come on, not now!" The young woman sighed with frustration, uselessly turning the key over and over again, each time to no avail. "Don't die on me now, baby!"

Suddenly a tap at her window made her look up into the smiling face of a youngish looking man. Eyeing him cautiously, she decided that he looked fairly harmless, and finally rolled down the window a crack, not trusting him to open it fully.

"Hi," he said, still grinning, lopsidedly, and she rolled her window down further. "I couldn't help but notice that you're having trouble starting your car."

"Oh, yeah," she turned the key again. "My battery is dying on me."

"I think it may be already dead," he told her. "But I can fix that. You hang on there, and I'll just hook your battery up, alright."

She sagged with relief. "Oh, _thank_ you."

Soon he finished and she turned her key, the engine rumbling into life. "You are a lifesaver," she told him, flipping her hair out of her face as she smiled gratefully. "Honestly, if there's anything I can do for you…just let me know."

"Well, know that you mention it," his eyes twinkled at her, and while she felt slightly nervous, something about him was holding her attention like no man had done before. "You know _Sharon's_? On Wentworth Street? How about having lunch with me there tomorrow?"

She stared at him for a second, before rolling her eyes and laughing. "Well, alright…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"James Potter," he told her, ruffling his rather messy black hair, and she found herself struck with a sudden urge to ruffle it herself. "And you are?"

"Adéla," she told him.

"Just Adéla?" he smirked at her.

Adéla simply turned around and walked back into her car. "So…noon at _Sharon's_, then?"

"Noon at Sharon's," James called to her, and then she zoomed past him, waving as she went. Strange, he thought, she looks just like Sirius's aunt Gabriella. Only…not a frigid ice queen. Memories of a beautiful brunette with a little girl on her knee suddenly surfaced for a moment before he shook his head, forcing them away. "Yeah, right," he muttered to himself. "Gabriella Zabini related to a muggle?"

Laughing at the absurdity of it, he turned away, unease settling upon him as more memories flashed into his mind unbidden, memories of a world that he'd turned his back on years ago. Merlin, it had all gone so wrong, so wrong. Maybe if he hadn't picked Peter…but what choice did he have?

Frowning, he got into his own car and drove off. He had a date tomorrow, and he wasn't about to let recollections of his past spoil it.

* * *

_Privet Drive, 1996_

"And that's what I just don't get, professor," Harry scribbled, his quill flying furiously across the parchment. "Why did my mum and dad pick Peter? Why not you? Why didn't they make you their secret-keeper?"

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know, it was confusing. But you want to know what was confusing? The five (yes, five) family trees I worked out for this story, dates included. (I know, I have too much time on my hands). Anyhoo, a big thanks to all my reviewers, **Lovin'Moony, xDragonxTearsx, StonySilence** – I hope it stays realistic enough for you!** FroBoy, XoXMelJayXoX** – I tried to update Summer at the Vale, I really did…but I'm just not in the right frame of mind for it at the present…I'll keep trying, though!** Fiona, Cherrysinger** – I love your reviews…James wasn't eager to have a son before – he came around to the idea, though. And you're right – why did he abandon his responsibility? Well, sit back and find out!

Heads up, folks…things will get a lot more confusing before they get clearer. Anyways, your input was greatly appreciated and continues to be valued. Thanks everyone - Laren


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Laren's: What you don't recognize. J.K.R's: the rest.

A/N: So many reviews…so happy…ahem. Sorry about the delay – life (a.k.a end of semester hell) caught up to me and I was regrettably unable to finish this. In fact, I should be doing work as we speak….better get on that.

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 4

_The Daily Prophet, Wednesday November 6th, 1972 – **Murder!**_

_In a stunning and tragic turn of events, the magical community lost three of its members this past Monday. The bodies of Ellen Potter, 21, and Abigail Potter, 8, were found in the home of Mrs. Juliana Potter, nee Malfoy. Based on the evidence, Mrs. Potter, whose body was not found, is presumed dead. Abigail Potter was the daughter of well-respected Ministry official Stephen Potter and his wife, Emily; their eldest, James, currently attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_

* * *

_London, Canada 1996_

The sound of a key in the door made the woman look up, a smile on her face. Smoothing out the crinkles in her skirt, she got up from the table she'd been eating at, heading out of her dining room and into the hall, where she was engulfed in a large bear hug quickly followed by a noisy kiss on the cheek.

"Stop that!" she commanded, but the laughter in her voice gave away her pleasure at seeing the man now standing before her. She always loved to look at her nephew; he reminded her to no end of her Joseph, all those years ago when she'd first met him.

He knew that she was happy to see him, too, as he simply grinned at her before kissing her other cheek.

"There you go," he told her. "Two kisses for a beautiful lady."

Juliana snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, child. I'm no spring chicken, and I changed your nappies. Don't think that your charms can work on me."

"What charms?" he asked her, eyes wide. "Really, Aunt Jules. I was simply stating the truth."

She raised a delicate eyebrow at him, and allowed herself a small smile. She knew that she did look good for her age – most women in their sixties would love to be regularly mistaken for someone in their forties. However, the smell of baking was wafting throughout the house, and she knew him well.

"Fine," she told him, turning on her heel and marching back into the kitchen. "I may have put something in the oven. But really, James, you should just get yourself a wife. Maybe then you'd get a decent meal."

James momentarily panicked; he did _not_ want his aunt to know about Adéla; not then, and if he could help it, not ever. Quickly, though, he managed to bring himself back under control, and was smiling smugly at her as she pulled a freshly baked cake from the oven.

"A wife?" he asked teasingly. "This coming from the woman who does as little as possible around the house?"

Juliana scowled at him; he knew that she hated the lack of house-elves, but as someone who was _supposed_ to have been dead for quite a long period of time, it wasn't a luxury she could afford. Composing herself and smirking back at him, she set the cake on the counter.

"And I suppose that you're enjoying having to actually clean up for yourself…_their_ way?"

James's face darkened, his fists clenching in to balls at his sides. "_Their?_" he practically hissed. "You do remember that I married one of 'them', as you call Muggles?"

"Well, she was quite a powerful little thing," Juliana noted, as one would comment about the rain. "And then, when she died, you did just up and leave the child. So, really, James darling, don't be a hypocrite and get all upset at me."

It was as if someone had pulled their arm back and hit him in the stomach as hard as they possibly could – several times over. His anger now instantly dissipating into thin air, James stared unseeingly in front of him. "There was so much more to it, Aunt Jules…" he murmured. "I couldn't stay…you don't understand." His hands, which had fallen limp at his sides, shook slightly. "I didn't have a choice."

Juliana set a piece of cake in front of him, rubbing his back reassuringly as she smiled at him. "Of course I understand, sweetheart. I ran too, remember? You know I understand. Why do you think I was the person you came to for help? You and me, James…we've always been alike."

No, a small part of James thought. We're nothing alike. But a much bigger part of him relaxed into her comforting touch and smiled wearily back up at her. "Yeah," he muttered. "You and me, Aunt Jules."

* * *

_Hamilton, Canada, 1996_

Adéla stood up on tiptoes, trying to keep her balance as she reached for the shoebox at the back of the closet. "Damn you, Potter," she murmured, cursing the fact that James was tall enough to simply shove all his waste up in the dark corners of their closet whilst she was forced to risk breaking her neck if she ever wanted to find anything.

Eventually, though, her hands closed around what she'd been looking for, and a look of triumph on her face, pulled it out, only to discover that it had been stored upside down as a cascade of old photographs tumbled down around her. Rolling her eyes at her back luck, she sighed as she slipped off the chair and bent down, beginning to pick up the numerous pictures now scattered around the tiny room.

Grinning, she looked down at the first picture she picked up, enjoying the way the people within it moved and waved at her. Ever since she'd left her parent's – no, _their_ house, she'd missed several things about the wizarding world – their photographs being one of them. Still smiling, she gently brushed her fingertips across the face that was currently grinning at her. "You never changed, did you James?" she asked quietly, and was rewarded with a smirk and a kiss blown in her direction.

Suddenly, though, picture James reached behind him and seemingly pulled a petite redhead from behind him, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her in position as she tried to duck back around him.

Adéla frowned. She did look a lot like Lily – especially with her hair dyed to a vibrant copper shade that her pale skin enabled her to pull off. Her eyes, at least were blue. She'd come home, once, with green contacts, just for the fun of it, and James had gone so quiet that she'd immediately thrown them out. And she wasn't so slender; no, she was naturally endowed with curves that James loved to trace whenever possible.

Putting the picture down, she picked up another, this one of James and Lily, both looking proudly at the baby boy in Lily's arms. Her heart sinking, she unconsciously placed one hand over her softly rounded stomach and stared at the picture. "You loved her so much, James…and you obviously loved your son…so, why? Why did you go?"

Getting up suddenly, she walked into their bathroom, rifling through their cabinet until she found the bottle of hair dye she'd been searching for. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she knew it was stupid, what she was doing, that it didn't make any sense. Still, she stripped and turned the shower on, taking the bottle of black hair dye with her as she stepped inside. Maybe, she thought, ignoring the protests of her rational mind. Maybe, if I don't look so much like Lily Potter…

* * *

_Godric's Hollow, October 25th, 1981_

James groaned as the sound of a baby crying jolted him from a nice, warm sleep. Without opening his eyes, he turned over, reaching out to Lily, only to find that he was waving his hand in thin air. Momentarily disoriented, he rolled towards her side of the bed, wondering where on earth his wife had got to. She was a deep sleeper; there was no way that Harry's cries had woken Lily up first.

_Thud!_

If he'd only been half-awake before, the sharp and painful contact of his face hitting the floor certainly served to bring him into full consciousness. Rubbing his now throbbing temple, reality rushed back to him as he slowly picked himself off of the ground. He was in their spare bedroom…and…Harry was _still_ crying.

Blinking his eyes, he stumbled towards his son's room. "Hey, baby…" he began softly, only to stop when he realized that Lily was already in the room, rocking Harry gently as his cries finally began to subside. "Oh," he muttered, and began to turn away, but she had already heard him.

"Thanks, James," she told him. "But I've got him."

"…right…" he said, the confusion of the newly awoken still clinging to him. He took a step towards the door, before suddenly turning back to his wife and son and speaking. "Look, Lily…is he hungry? If he's not…I'll put him back to sleep for you."

Lily slowly turned around, staring at her husband with a calculating look in her eyes. Finally she appeared to reach a decision and walked over to him, holding the now quiet Harry out to him. "Sure. I could use the rest. Thanks, James."

She handed Harry to him, fussing over him slightly before turning and walking back to the master bedroom. James stared down at Harry, who was now fidgeting slightly.

"Hey, why don't we get some sleep, okay, Harry? Otherwise you'll be all cranky tomorrow, and then your mum will be all cranky, and we _certainly_ don't want that."

Grinning, he brushed his fingers gently against Harry head, but the infant only seemed to become more agitated. James frowned. Harry had always seemed to know when James was joking, relaxing and falling asleep in his father's arms in no time. Now, however, he was clearly getting more upset by the second, and the fact that James was now rather tense was not helping the situation.

"Harry!" he tried again, doing his best to remain calm. Harry sucked up his parents' emotions like a sponge; it would do no good to either of them for James to get frustrated. "Harry, baby, come on. Daddy's here…you're alright! Why don't we just go back to sleep, okay?"

His son, however, was having none of the numerous platitudes, soothing words and back rubs that were being directed at him. Finally,Harry's cries now fully blown, James gave up and headed out into the hallway, only to find Lily coming towards him, her face annoyed but her eyes slightly triumphant.

"I'll take him now, James. Thanks for trying, though."

James gave Harry back to Lily, clenching his fist as Harry quieted down almost instantaneously. "Someone just wanted their mummy, didn't they?" Lily cooed, and James had to fight back an urge not to say something he'd regret.

Instead, he swallowed his pride, and looked Lily directly in the eyes. "Lils," he said softly. "Lils…I…"

She gave him a small half smile. "It's okay, James – you were just a little tense, and you know how Harry gets. We're all stressed – how could we not be, living like this?"

James nodded tightly, and, hoping against hope, looked meaningfully past Lily to the open doorway behind her. At this, however, Lily's look cooled, and he knew it was no use. Turning and going back towards the spare bedroom, he had to restrain himself from shoving his fist into the wall.

'Yeah, I'm _tense._ Living like this is just _great_,' he thought. 'I'm hiding from a homicidal maniac because he wants to kill my family, which isn't really even a family anymore, considering that my wife has, for all intents and purposes, kicked me out of the house.' Collapsing on the bed, he smiled wryly. 'Some life.'

The next morning, however, despite the fact that he forgot where he was yet again and had to deal with the ugly truth of reality once more, he was feeling slightly more cheerful. He'd fed Harry his breakfast, and the one-year-old had been giggling the whole way through, apparently enjoying himself. Lily, as a result, had been considerably warmer towards him, even remaining calm when he reminded her that Peter and Sirius would be coming to see them day about the Fidelius charm. Even much later on, when Harry was taking a nap and they were waiting for their friends to arrive, she stayed remarkably easy going, and James felt his despondency of the previous night leaving him.

"I still think…I know that we're going to ask Peter, but I still think it should have been Remus, James."

Strangely enough, he found he wasn't annoyed that she'd brought it up again. He was, however, distinctly uncomfortable, due to a horrible, nagging suspicion at the back of his mind about his chubbier friend.

"Well, actually," he coughed slightly. "I have been thinking about that lately."

Inwardly he groaned as his wife's green eyes lit up. "You've been thinking about it!" she asked, incredulously. "James, then…if you've actually considered Remus, then, let's not just rush into this! We have…"

"We have time?" he asked dryly, and the light in Lily's eyes went out. "We don't, Lils. That's the point. And I'm not saying that Remus is…is… well, he couldn't be…_you know,_"

"The traitor?" Lily interrupted, folding her arms across her chest. James's eyes widened slightly and he hastily backtracked.

"Look, the thing is, Remus is, logically, the better option! So, if we go with Peter, no one will even consider him!"

"And so we leave Remus to fend for himself when everyone thinks it is him, or Sirius?"

James sighed, closing his eyes. "We've had this argument before, Lily."

"Yes." Her voice was clipped. "We have. And the real fact of the matter is that you just don't trust Remus Lupin."

James's eyes flew open, his mouth opening to protest the absolute idiocy of her statement, when the wind was suddenly knocked out of him. Sagging slightly, he looked at her, his expression pained. "I…I don't know who to trust anymore, Lils."

Lily's own momentum crashed to a halt. "We'll make it through this, James." She said after a time. James swallowed as she reached for his hand, squeezing it softly.

They sat together quietly for a while, neither moving until a couple of sudden cracks in quick succession from the entrance way heralded the arrival of Sirius and Peter.

"James," Lily's voice was low, and she spoke quickly. "You know I love you, don't you?"

James just stared at his wife, letting out a breath that felt as if he'd been holding it for the last month or so, the time since she'd last said that to him.

"Yeah," he finally managed, and an expression of extreme relief broke out over Lily's face.

"Oh, good," she began.

"Hullo!" called Sirius, obviously seconds away from barging into the room they presently occupied. "I'm here, folks!"

"I know we've been having this stupid fight, James, and I hate it. I'm so sorry…I…"

James leaned forward and kissed her, effectively silencing any further remarks.

"Sirius…er, don't you think we should keep it down?" came Peter's slightly anxious voice. "I mean, suppose Harry's asleep or something?"

"Asleep? What for?"

"Lils," James said, after he'd pulled back. "I love you too."

Lily smiled at him, and then Sirius sauntered into the room, followed by a rather tired looking Peter.

"James, Lily," he greeted, but was drowned out by Sirius' exuberant "Prongs! Mrs. Prongs!"

James and Lily looked at each other, both coming to the conclusion that now that Sirius had a Plan Of Action, he was back to his normal, boisterous self.

"Hey, come on in," James said, and gestured to some chairs. "Harry will be awake soon, so let's get this over with."

Sirius looked slightly embarrassed, but Peter was rather confused. "Get…what…over with?" he asked, sitting down rather shakily.

"Pete," Lily said gently. "Have you ever heard of the Fidelius charm?"

* * *

A/N: Alright! There it is! And now, I have finally managed to repair all the various plot holes that were inevitable with a spur of the moment idea such as this story, which, let me tell you, is a good thing, because when I asked "why did James leave England?" I wasn't being rhetorical. I was genuinely asking the question…but now, the characters have sorted themselves out, and so I know _exactly_ what's going to happen. Mwhahah…oh, this is fun.

Anyways, to my reviewers…much thanks to **Froboy, weird-and-wonderful, Carnivore**…and…

**Jasu** – you think my plot is unique? That's possibly one of the best compliments I've ever received. I really hope the rest of the story stays that way. And, um, yes, I did come up with it all by myself blushes . Actually, the James gets remarried and has a kid idea had been floating around in my head for quite a while; and then, I was reading my health-care ethics book, focussing on a section on abortion…and suddenly – I swear, it almost hurt it hit me so hard…there it was. Yes, there were a few plot holes, but for the most part, it hit me all at once. Wow, that's a long response.

**tweeny-weeny** – oh, James has a damn good reason for leaving. One of them, in fact, is hinted at in this chapter. And it was after Lily died…everything that was in the books happened, except that James wasn't quite as dead as they thought he was.

**fiona – **James went to Canada almost immediately after Halloween 1981. The whole remus issue…is dealt with superficially in this chap, so I hope it will answer your question for the time being. There is more to it, though, but I can't tell you yet!

**Cherrysinger** – seriously, you should get some kind of award for best reviewer. Do they have them? Hm…anyway… YOU HAVEN'T READ THE FIFTH BOOK! Okay, I highly suggest it before I get another 6 or so chapters in; otherwise there will be major spoilers headed your way. And, I wouldn't exactly say that James is a coward, really. Just that he's human. But yeah, I know what you mean…and that's kind of what is so enticing about this not-so-brave James.

**Tondo-the-half-elf** – I know, and I'm sorry…but I did repost after I got your review to add some dates for clarification! Hope it helped!

**StonySilence** – no, and once more, I'm sorry about the confusion. I added the dates in after I realized that it was pretty much all over the place. There are several storylines going on, in different time periods, so I can't simply go through it in chronological order. Hopefully the dates will keep things somewhat organized.

**Lovin'Moony** – I love Remus too…did you read cfw101? Yeah, I felt bad about James abandoning him too… and then I figured out why, and the world was right again. You'll find out, in time. And Remus, who actually has a fairly central part that he has yet to truly play, does not know. Juliana, however, does…(here's a spoiler – let's see if people actually read all these responses) andPeter knows that _Juliana_ is alive – now…what might just happen there, hmm?

Well, that's everyone, I think. I'm glad you all reviewed…it means the world to me, honestly. Feel free to sound off on anything in this chapter… I love hearing from my readers - Laren


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: See, I wish I did own this; I'm a uni student and I _really_ need the money – but alas, such is not the case – everything that you recognize belongs to J.K.R. (but I do own the rest!) 

**A/N**: So I'm still confusing the daylights out of most of you…but have no fear, I'm working harder on not doing that. I sped things up slightly in this chap (if you can believe it) so hopefully more life-changing answers are to be discovered within the words that follow. Er…I think so.

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 5

_Hamilton, Canada, August 1996_

James rolled over in bed, blinking his eyes against the infusion of bright sunlight that was currently streaming through the window. Groaning, he stared at the alarm clock on his bedside table; seven-fifteen a.m. Well, he'd have had to get up fairly soon anyway. Lying back down, he pondered a day off of work – after all, he owned the travel agency – he could easily call in and say that he'd be away that day.

A sudden, gentle sigh from the woman sleeping beside him brought a smile to his face. Raising himself on one elbow, he looked down at Adéla, running his free hand lightly through her now jet-black hair. Laughing slightly to himself, he remembered the day he'd come home a couple of weeks previously, only to find her hair covered by a vibrantly coloured scarf. Her face had been red with embarrassment even before he commented on it, and it took much cajoling for her to pull it off, letting locks of raven hair tumble down her back.

"Er, James?" she'd said, after a few minutes of shocked silence.

He'd simply stared at her for a moment, mouth opening and closing several times before stupidly blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Well, that's a relief," he'd told her. "For a second there, I thought you'd went and got some ridiculous haircut."

Adéla had looked momentarily offended before sagging with relief at his words. She'd moved forward, about to kiss him when he'd spoken again.

"Merlin, you do look just like your mum, you know? Although…you've got the Zabini colouring."

She'd looked at him for only a fraction of a second then, her eyes horrified before she turned and rushed upstairs, running to their bathroom, where James heard drawers and cabinets being hastily rummaged through. Eventually, though, his brain finally caught up to the preceding events, and he'd sighed and took the stairs three at a time, barging into the room via the door that Adéla had forgotten to lock in her haste.

"Adéla, sweetheart – no…" he'd begun, but Adéla, finding the bottle she was looking for, had already started to pull off her clothes.

"I don't want to look like her, James. Or him. I don't want to look like _anyone_ else!"

He had been about to take the bottle from her when he stopped, his mind processing her last words. Lily. She'd dyed her hair so that she no longer resembled his long-dead wife.

He'd pulled the lid of the toilet down and sat heavily on it, burying his face in his hands. Much to his surprise, though, the water didn't start running. When he'd opened his eyes, Adéla was kneeling before him in nothing but her underwear.

"I know," she'd said quietly. "It was stupid, I know. I just found an old picture, and…my hormones are going wild…I don't know what I was thinking."

James gave her a small smile before reaching forward to pull her onto his lap.

"Actually," he'd told her. "I like it. It suits you – as if – this is supposed to be your natural hair colour."

Adéla had rolled her eyes at him. "It _is_ my natural hair colour, silly. I've told you that before."

"Oh," he'd responded, feeling fairly stupid. "Of course you have."

Her previous sadness had faded then, and she'd laughed, sliding her arms around him and kissing his cheek. "I was just too lazy to wait for it to grow out. But – you do like it, then?"

"Mmhm," James agreed, enjoying the way she felt held close to him. "I think it's very…intriguing."

Her laugh was loud and full bodied that time, her face sparkling with a happiness that had been a permanent fixture since then. And he did like her hair, he thought, now as he looked down at her peacefully sleeping form. His eyes travelled down her body, clad only in a thin slip, which had ridden up during the night and exposed the roundness of her stomach. Grinning, he bent down and kissed it softly, running his hands gently over it.

"Hi, baby girl." He said quietly. He'd been thrilled to learn that they were expecting a girl at her latest check-up, and even more so, now that Adéla was finally getting excited about the pregnancy, dragging him into every baby store she came across.

A sleepy chuckle from Adéla pulled his attentions away from her belly and up on her lips, eliciting a screwed up face from her.

"James," she said softly, he voice still husky with sleep. "Eww, I probably have terrible morning breath."

"I'll tell you what you have," James said, smiling and shaking his head. "You have my child…" he gestured down her body. "Growing inside you, that's what."

Adéla laughed again, much more awake this time. "I'm not going into work today – are you?'

James finally made up his mind and shook his head. "No…if you're taking the day off, I think I'll do the same."

"Mmm," Adéla murmured sleepily, closing her eyes. "Well, let's go back to sleep, then. We don't need to be up this early."

James stared down at her for a moment before picking up her left hand in his, gently caressing it. "Actually, Déla," he told her, his voice unfaltering. "Marry me."

So it was that around two that afternoon, James and Adéla were found standing facing each other in a small chapel, reciting their vows in front of a local minister and two good friends. Adéla had giggled when James asked her to marry him. "We're already engaged, James," she'd said. "I already said yes…" and then it had dawned on her just what he meant. She'd blushed and trailed off, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. She'd still said yes, though, and so now James was leaning forward to kiss her at the minister's urging. Adéla smiled widely at him as he pulled away, holding tightly onto his hands – almost as if she was never going to let go.

Outside the chapel, after everything had been signed and they were walking through the subdivision they lived in on their way home, James noted this fact.

"Not that I don't want you to hold my hand, Mrs. Potter," Adéla rolled her eyes at him. "But you can ease up on the death grip."

She pouted slightly then, but loosened her hold anyway, stopping him and pulling his head down to hers for a kiss.

'But you don't understand,' she thought. 'It's not about me letting go. I don't want you to ever let go of me.'

_

* * *

England, Halloween 1981_

Horror etched across his usually mischievous features, James stood stock still for a heart stopping moment before running as fast as he possibly could for the nearest secluded corner and apparating to Godric's Hollow.

"LILY!" he yelled. When he couldn't find them anywhere on the first floor, he tried again. "LILY, WE HAVE TO GET OUT _NOW_!"

Lily suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, which James was rushing up to meet her. Confusion flitted across her face for a millisecond before determination replaced it. As James reached her, she turned and fairly ran into Harry's room, scooping up as James grabbed a bag from the floor. Seconds later they were both rushing down the stairs, doing their best to reach their living room and fireplace before it was too late. James had only just stepped off of the last stair when their back door clicked shut, stopping them dead in their tracks. James turned to Lily, who was standing stiffly behind him. Harry was staring up at his father, silent, but looking utterly terrified, mirroring the emotions running through his parents at that time.

"Lily, take Harry and RUN! I'll hold him off."

Lily didn't even bother to nod, but turned and was sprinting up the stairs before he'd even finished speaking. James didn't stop to watch her go. Heart pounding, he stepped out into the hallway, turning to face the man – no, _thing_ that was trying to kill his family.

It was strange, actually, his duel with Voldemort. For some reason it felt as if he was elsewhere, his body automatically blocking and firing curses at his opponent. His mind was completely occupied with the events of that evening, the horrible non-conversation he'd had with Peter Pettigrew now playing over and over again through his thoughts.

"Pete," he'd said, trying his best to remain calm. "Pete, what's been going on with you lately?"

His 'friend' had looked at him then, mockingly, and James had known, known what he'd been trying to deny for the past week. They'd met several times since they decided on the switch, and each time, it was the same.

_"So everything's set, then, Pete?"_

_"Yeah, Prongs," Peter smiled wanly. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it. You can trust me."_

_"Good," James responded. "Good. I just want this all over with. It's been hell lately – this is the easiest way out."_

_"Soon, James, soon." Peter said then. James narrowed his eyes._

_"Soon? You can't promise me that much, Pete."_

_Peter sighed, before looking strangely at James. "But I wish I could, Prongs…this here thing – for you…I'm doing my best."_

If James had been honest with himself, he'd known then; in fact, he'd had have to known for ages what Peter was planning to do. That evening, in the restaurant they'd met at, Peter hadn't even bothered to respond to James's query. He hadn't rushed off anywhere, but simply remained seated, looking at him triumphantly, and James's stomach had sunk with the horrible realization of what was imminent. He had run from the restaurant, disapparating as soon as he could and rushing back home – but it was all too late.

Too late; just like his latest blocking charm. In the back of his mind, he heard Voldemort's sibilant voice start to say the _Avada Kedavra_, the green bolt of light coming slowly, slowly towards him.

And as his world began to go black, James found that he was surprised. "Why," he thought. "I didn't even feel that."

* * *

_Privet Drive, August 1996_

"Hullo, Birthday boy!"

Harry couldn't help but scowl at his former professor. "It was two weeks ago," he grumbled, and Remus chuckled at the disgruntled look on Harry's face.

"Yes, yes, of course, but as I was unfortunately unable to properly congratulate you at the time, I thought I'd do so now."

The teen rolled his eyes, but grinned anyway at Remus's honest enthusiasm. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "I mean, I'm used to not having a big hullabaloo on my birthday…but…I dunno. I guess was just a bit lonely, I suppose."

"The Dursley's are leaving you alone?" Remus asked, and Harry hastened to assure him that he was alright.

"Oh, yeah, but trust me, that's a good thing. Anyway…er…thanks. And for the present, too."

"Ah, you got it! Excellent. Well, I'm glad to hear that you're doing fine."

"Yeah," Harry told him, sitting down at his desk and pulling out various gifts. "I mean, I _did_ get a lot of stuff. I guess everyone is so worried that I'll just _Avada_ myself that they literally loaded me with presents. Even Dung sent me this watch – I dunno about wearing it, though."

Remus looked up at him sharply from his seat on the edge of Harry's bed, his face rather pale. Too late Harry realized the crudeness of his jest and flushed red.

"Sorry, Professor," he stammered. "I didn't mean it like that. But…you know…"

Remus stared calculatingly at him a moment longer, before nodding tightly. "Well, let me have a look at that watch for you."

Harry, grateful that Remus hadn't delved into _that_ particular topic, gingerly handed him the inconspicuous looking gold watch that Mundungus Fletcher had sent him for his birthday. Remus turned it over a few times in his hands before tapping it with his wand. Moments later he turned a quirky grin up at Harry.

"Yes, I'd definitely avoid wearing that if I were you."

"Mm," Harry said, looking thoughtful. "Maybe I should give it to Dudley. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

A small chuckle escaped Remus despite his best effort to appear disapproving. "Harry James Potter," he said. "Sometimes, Harry, you are eerily like your father."

Suddenly the room went very quiet, and Remus sighed, not bothering to look for the dull, closed off expression that he knew would be on Harry's face.

"So," he said, knowing what he had to say. "In my seventh year at Hogwarts, I was a prefect. One of the Ravenclaw prefects had just lost their badge for cheating-" Harry snorted, but kept his face firmly away from Remus. "And she was replaced by a girl called Cassandra Rosier."

Harry turned to look at him now, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes, Harry, it's the same family," Remus had anticipated Harry's question. "Cassandra was the younger sister of Evan Rosier, the Death Eater."

He had Harry's full attention now, and although he'd reminded him of James only minutes before, it was Lily he now saw in eyes of the boy before him. Slightly unnerved, he carried on. "I don't know why your dad and mum picked Peter over me, Harry, but I do know that Sirius didn't trust me at all then – and with fairly good reason. Cassandra and I were…involved, but we kept it a secret. I don't know how James and Sirius found out, but they were none too happy about it."

"And my dad trusted Sirius the most?" Harry asked, and Remus nodded.

"Why wouldn't he?" he asked. "They were like brothers."

Harry's shoulders sagged slightly, a frown creasing his forehead as he stared out of the window. Remus knew that he was thinking about it; he'd quite obviously given him the shortened, censored version of events. When Harry turned back to him, his gaze questioning, Remus didn't even bother to lie.

"No, that's not the whole story, Harry. And I can't tell you everything, simply because I don't know exactly what happened. I don't think anyone does, actually. There a few things I do know… but I want you to think hard about whether or not you want to hear a patched, broken version of events. Not because of your safety, or any of that nonsense…" he paused, inwardly pleased to see that this had persuaded Harry somewhat. "But because of all the doubts it causes – all the nights of unrest because no matter how much you try to make sense of things, you _never know what really happened._"

Harry was silent, staring at the floor now. Remus got up to leave, but paused by the door. "Harry, if you decide that you absolutely, still want to know, I'll tell you. It'll be my own warped version, but I'll tell you. If not…well, I'll drop by soon anyway. Take care, Harry."

"Er…you too, professor."

On his way out, Remus shook his head, trying his hardest not to think about Cassandra Rosier. He'd be stupid if he didn't know how James and Sirius had found out her; if he thought that Peter Pettigrew had nothing to do with the fact that she was found dead at twenty-one.

And yet, about so many things…he'd still been an idiot.

* * *

A/N: so, I've tried to give out a few more answers in this chapter…I really hope you liked it! Many thanks to all my reviewers – I love you all, I really do. It was a review that made me finish this – so keep them coming!

**Carnivore**- yes, I agree with you on the James count. I'm always ecstatic when I find a fic that portrays him as a person in his own right – I really hope I'm doing that here! As for some comeuppance…it's coming!

**FroBoy** – glad you liked it – will do my best with updating 

**Draco vs Romance – **sorry about the confusion! Like I said before, there are several different intertwining plot lines – and I'm trying my best to make sure they stay together…but sometimes one strand may get away from me. I'm really glad you liked it anyway (makes me feel better about all the date confusion!)

**tweeny-weeny – **ooh, I'm glad you liked adéla worrying about her looks. That wasn't originally going to be part of that chapter, but when I was writing it, it seemed to come naturally (and it worked well in this chapter too!) As for James…I can't really say anything yet without spoiling the story (sorry!)

**Cherrysinger** – well, as long as the fifth book has been previously spoilt, I shan't worry too much (grins). I hinted at why James left (you know that whole part in italics? Don't forget that conversation) as well as continued the superficial explanation as to why he picked Peter and not Remus. I will expand on that, though. I really hope I didn't confuse you too much this time around! (p.s. okay, here you go…☺ - they didn't have a gold star – for amazing reviewing)

**Telwyn Dubois – **you've raised some really good points, so, let's see…Well, you're starting to find out why James left. Although…he left after Lily was dead – everything that was in the books about their 'deaths' still happened. About Adéla…you've got to remember that this is 16 years after Lily's death. To her, Lily is a distant figure, and James is clearly quite in love with Adéla for herself (see this chapter!) Still, she is clearly experiencing anxiety – she wants to look like herself, not his dead wife, and she's freaking out about him leaving her. I don't think that she'd have anything to be furious about, though. Hope that helps!

**Lovin'Moony – **I'm glad you liked cfw101. You know what? That idea of yours is a good one; not the way I was originally going to do it...but still, very interesting. Hmm. It will be Peter and Juliana who give away James's _non-deadness_, though. And about Lily and James – every couple fights, right? I just though that under all that incredible stress, tempers were bound to be lost (and you'll see more of that soon!)

So I'm trying to give you all more answers now, without giving away the entire story or confusing the daylights out of you. Please review and let me know how I'm doing! - Laren


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I own what you do not recognize, JKR has the rest.

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. For those of you who are disliking James… well, this is for pretty much everyone - you're going to hate James in this chapter. Utterly and completely. Sadly, that's just the way the story goes. I really hope you enjoy the rest of it, though!

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 6

_November 1972, England_

Blue eyes scanned the newspaper, the lips just below them curving up into a pleased smile. So Juliana Malfoy was dead…what, she thought, a lovely piece of news. Her features triumphant, she continued to read, only to be interrupted by a rather loud snort from the man seated across from her.

"Were you in need of something, Michael?" she asked sharply, her eyes flashing.

He smirked, obviously amused as he leaned backing his chair, looking intently at her. Gabriella Black – no, it was Gabriella _Zabini_, now, was an extremely beautiful woman; even more so when she was annoyed, and he knew just how to rile her.

"Gabriella, dear," he began. "I take it that you are partaking of the _Prophet_'s main article this morning?"

She raised an eyebrow at his manner, but continued her reading nonetheless. "But of course, Michael." She smiled, forcing down her irritation. "It would seem that there is good news today."

He scowled slightly, and Gabriella suddenly felt a lot better. "Not good enough, Gabriella. Now, if Stephen Potter was dead too, yes, then life would be good."

Gabriella almost grinned, then. Goodness knows that she'd love to see Potter dead too; both of them had lost too many family because of Potter and – this she was certain of – Juliana's betrayal of her _true_ family. Still, though, now that Juliana was –

"Presumed dead, my dear, _presumed_."

Gabriella's head snapped up, her eyes resting on Michael, her face quitedeliberatelyemotionless. In the silence that followed, a baby began to cry; and both man and woman turned to the door, where a flustered maid appeared.

"Why," Gabriella spoke first, sounding immensely annoyed. "Why, pray tell, are you _not_ upstairs with Adéla?"

"Beggin' your pardon, miss," the now frightened girl bobbed a shaky curtsey. "But I think that she wants you, miss."

Not daring to look over at her husband of a few months, she slowly got up from the table and made her way upstairs. No doubt he would only have said something about 'a woman's duties,' and she would have only hated him more for it, hated him and the little girl she was now going to. And always, even though she hated that the baby had ruined her life, forced her to marry Zabini, her heart melted as she picked up the child, holding her close.

'Presumed dead? For her sake, she'd better well be.' She thought, until her attention was diverted by a gurgle from Adéla, and then she smiled at her, lightly tracing her soft baby skin. 'No, you, my daughter…you would never betray us like Juliana did. You're a Zabini, and a Black, darling, and we _know_ who we are.'

Adéla simply stared up at her, eyes so similar to her mother's, before breaking out into a toothless grin and reaching up for a long, dangling lock of her mother's dark brown hair.

"Don't let go, sweetheart," Gabriella whispered. "Don't ever let go."

_

* * *

England, 1981_

"Don't be ridiculous, Remus!" the young woman laughed, practically dancing around him in excitement. "See what I mean? You got the interview!"

Remus rolled his eyes at the vivacious girl, but grinned at her and pulled her close to him. "You just couldn't resist saying 'I told you so', could you?"

She looked up at him with dancing eyes, a small blush creeping across her face before she grinned cheekily at him. "Well, I was right!" Standing on tiptoes, she reached up and kissed him lightly. "You shouldn't doubt yourself, Remus."

She kissed him again then, wrapping her arms tightly around him, letting him gather her small frame up in his arms and pull her close to his tall one. Suddenly, though, she gasped and pulled away, eliciting a groan from Remus, who tried to hold her close.

"Cass," he murmured. "Cassandra…"

_"Cassandra?"_

Remus sprang away from her then; Cassandra, who had already been pulling apart from him, stumbled backwards, finding her footing just before she went tumbling to the ground. Remus, however, completely horror struck, didn't even notice – he was far too busy staring at Peter Pettigrew, who was eyeing him with equal shock.

He had only just managed to stammer a weak "P – p – peter," when Cassandra abruptly seized control of the situation, years of upbringing coming to her aid as she swiftly recovered from her surprise.

"Remus, this was practically just begging to happen," she said calmly, going to his side and rubbing his back. Turning to Peter, she smiled brilliantly.

"It's Peter Pettigrew, right?"

The blond man, the eyes bulging from his head implying a distant aquatic ancestor, could do naught but nod, still struck dumb by the information his brain had just received.

"Cassandra," Remus began, seeing that she was moving towards Peter, but she paid him no heed.

"Cassandra Rosier," she said firmly, holding out her hand to Peter, who squeaked before stepping away from her.

"Er, look, Remus…I'll just…I'll be back later." He stammered, and disapparated, distinctly muttering the name 'Rosier' as he left.

Remus closed his eyes, sighing heavily, and stifled an internal wry laugh; he heard Cassandra's intake of air and found he could predict exactly what she was about to say.

"Don't say I didn't try, Remus," she snapped, before stalking out of the room.

Remus found himself having to hold his tongue, instead following her into the dingy hallway of the small apartment.

"Will you be back later, Cass?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes before leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

"Yes. But you'd better have cleared up all this nonsense with Peter."

She shook at finger at him as she disapparated, the telltale 'crack!' of apparation slightly louder than usual. Remus winced; while she wasn't necessarily _angry_, he knew that he was still in trouble.

This fact truly dawned on him when Peter returned, knocking timidly at the door instead of apparating as he'd done earlier.

"Pete," Remus said heavily, but the smaller mad had already rounded on him.

"Cassandra _Rosier_?" he hissed. "Are you out of our mind, Moony?"

Remus held his hands up in the air, trying to placate his friend, but Peter would have none of it.

"Rosier, Remus…Rosier! Do you know what that family is – what it stands for?"

"SHE'S NOT LIKE THEM!"

Both men stopped dead in their tracks; Remus stunned at his own outburst, Peter's mouth open in an 'o' of surprise. Remus was the first to recover, flushing red.

"I'm sorry, Pete," he earnestly apologized. "Really, I am, but it's just that…Cass, well, Cass is great, Pete. And she and I…we've been together for years, Pete; I would've said something, I really would have, but…"

"She's a Rosier?" Peter interrupted sarcastically, and Remus's face darkened momentarily before it became pleading again.

"Please, Pete, you've _got_ to understand, you've got to…what would James and Sirius say? Don't you see? How could I tell you all – especially – now with her…brother."

Peter shook his head and turned away from him. "Rosier!" he grumbled. "She's Evan Rosier's sister! And she's seeing you!"

"Pete, look, I know, mate, I _know,_ but you've _got_ to keep this quiet, alright? James and Sirius will have a fit, you know they will! They won't be quiet about it either; and then someone will find out, someone who shouldn't, and where does that leave Cass? Tell me, Pete, where does that leave her? It's not safe; she won't be safe if a Deatheater finds out!"

Peter backed slowly away from the now enraged Remus, carefully ensuring a safety perimeter around himself. Remus, breathing heavily, moved closer, his fists bunched at his sides.

"Alright."

Remus stopped, the air he'd just breathed in suddenly rushing out as Peter spoke. "What?" he asked, more than slightly confused at the sudden turn of events

"I said alright, Moony."

"Alright?" Remus repeated weakly, and Peter smiled kindly at him.

"I get it, Moony. I'll keep it quiet. I understand. James and Sirius would lose it completely, but…you could've…you can trust me, Remus! Sure, I was a little stunned; but I wish you had told me."

Remus stared at the floor, unable to look Peter in the eye with the guilt that was flooding in, completely overwhelming him.

"And Cassandra," Peter continued. "I'm not an expert on women, Remus, but don't you think that she hates being…well, hidden?"

"Pete," Remus croaked out, his voice hoarse. "Pete, I'm sorry, I am…stop, please…I just want to keep her safe."

"Don't worry, Moony," Peter said, his look earnest. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

_Privet Drive, 1996_

"Take care of what?" Harry asked, staring at a rather confused looking Remus.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry sighed, annoyed at what he perceived to be the older man's evasion of the question. "You were just telling me what happened when Peter walked in on you and Cassandra Rosier…Peter would take care of what?"

"Well, Harry…" Remus began, and paused, his brow furrowed. "I…don't know." He admitted, looking strangely at Harry. "I never asked him to do anything except stay quiet…I…"

Harry tilted his head to one side, looking quizzically at him. "No? And you've never thought about it? I mean, even now that you know it was Pettigrew who ratted everyone out?"

Remus looked pained as he spoke, twisting his hands together. "I didn't want to think about it, Harry. I don't want to think about it."

* * *

_Godric's Hollow, 1981_

"Pete," Lily said gently. "You have to tell us; it's important."

Peter stared at the floor. "He…no…I promised him, I can't."

Sirius, who was leaning casually against the fireplace, snorted derisively. "Promised? Ooh, so he _promised_, I mean, really, Wormtail – how can you fall for such shi-"

"What Sirius is trying to say, Pete," James interrupted. "is that we can't afford _not _to be honest with each other right now."

Peter was quiet for a very long time, and Lily looked up at James, shaking her head sadly. After some time, thought, slowly, haltingly, Peter began to talk, the words flowing freely after the first few stumbled out.

"Remus…he's…he's been seeing …this girl…"

Lily grinned widely, exhaling in relief. "See?" she told the two dark-haired men. "You were both just being ridiculous. He's got a new girlfriend, and he's shy about it."

"No," Peter interrupted, before she could say any more. "No, she's not a _new_ girlfriend. They've been together since seventh year."

Silence reigned in the small living room, until Sirius, who'd suddenly moved from the fireplace to the chair where Peter was seated, spoke up.

"For what, four, _five_ bloody years, then? And he hasn't said a thing!"

"Sirius," Lily tried to calm him, "Sirius, I'm sure he has his reasons…"

"Who is it, Pete," James said, his voice low. "Who is she?"

Peter stared up at them, his eyes wide. "Cas…Cassandra…Rosier."

Sirius simply stared at Peter, shaking his head whilst his mouth moved wordlessly. James began to agitatedly pace the room, muttering furiously under his breath.

"Pete," Lily said quietly. "Are you sure? Cassandra Rosier, Evan Rosier's sister?"

"I walked in on them," Peter said dully. "And she introduced herself."

Lily breathed deeply. "I think you should go home and get some rest, alright?"

Peter nodded gratefully, disapparating after a quick goodbye to the others. Sirius left soon after, saying that he couldn't think just then, that he couldn't believe that Remus would do such a thing.

Lily sighed as she watched James, still pacing around the small room. "James...look, this doesn't have to mean anything."

He whirled around, stopping in front of her. "Doesn't have to mean anything?" he repeated. "_Doesn't have to mean anything_? Sometimes, Lily, sometimes, you are just so…naïve."

Lily's eyes flashed angrily. "Naïve?" she asked him. "Naïve? Just because someone has less than desirable family doesn't mean that they're steeped in their family's ways!"

"He's probably up to his neck in the dark arts by now," James muttered. "I should have known it'd be him."

"James Potter, will you listen to me!" Lily demanded. "I've met Cassandra, back in school, and she's a nice girl!"

"Who knows, maybe she was a nice girl back then," James sneered. "That's probably how she reeled Remus in, being a _nice_ girl, and then she turned him, turned him away from us, and now look! He's betrayed us, Lily, don't you see? It's him, Lily, _he's_ the traitor."

"No!" Lily insisted. "No, James, he _can't _be. He can't. How could Remus, our Remus, be the traitor? Why would he ever betray us? No, Cassandra didn't 'turn' him, James. Why can't she be different from her family? Look at Sirius!"

"DON'T YOU DARE COMPARE THAT WOMAN TO SIRIUS!"

Lily stepped back from James, her eyes wide, slightly fearful but determined as she looked up at him.

"Well, it's true, James…"

James closed the space between them in seconds, grabbing Lily's arm and yanking her roughly to him. "You take that back, Evans," he hissed at her. "Take that back."

"James," Lily said, her voice clear but slightly shaky. "James, let go of me."

"What? Let go? Not until you take that back, Lily – Sirius is different, and you know it. How _dare_ you say that about him, how dare you!"

"James," Lily cried. "James, you're hurting me!"

He sneered at her then, his eyes so angry that Lily was afraid. Suddenly Harry, upstairs in his room, cried out, and James let go of her, surprised. Lily darted away from him quickly, giving him one last, scared look before fleeing the room. Later on, James would go after her, apologizing profusely, but it wasn't the same, anymore. Both of them knew it, even when after a month of cold silence, they ended their feud, that they'd gone past the point of no return, and there was nothing they could do.

**

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A/N: Okay, hands up who hates James? What's that – everyone? I thought so. Anyway, thanks so much to those who reviewed – you all continue to absolutely make my day every time I see a review in my inbox.**

**Draco vs Romance**: hmm, let me see...well, it'll be, er, a while in coming, to say the least – roughly about 4 months time from present time in the story. And talk about the final blow…ah well, you'll definitely just have to wait and see for that! (Cookies? Mmm, hungry)

**tweeny-weeny**: I'm going to do my best with updating, but I'm in the middle of exams so it's down to once a week now. And that's an interesting question, you know – would she still love him? Now that you've raised that, I may work it in – it's an interesting point. And yes, James feels like absolute hell that he up and left Harry – trust me, that'll come out later. I don't think the same thing happened to James that it did to Harry, cause then James would have been the one to defeat Voldemort. More about that to come!

**Cherrysinger:** Sorry! I didn't mean to confuse you! I thought that chapter helped (shrugs and blushes sheepishly). Adéla knows about Lily because James has told her. She also knows that James has a son, but ...well, that'll be in a chapter coming soon. I feel sorry for me too! I've worked out how the story is going to go, and I've fixed the plot holes in the outline, but because it doesn't follow a normal chronological scheme, I have to make sure I don't forget something important. And I really wish that I could download that song…but I'm a poor uni student and I don't have a sound card! I usually listen to Coldplay's The Scientist when I write this…it just seems to fit so well. But if I find that song, I'll give it a go! (whoo, long response! You're rubbing off on me! P)

**XoXMelJayXoX**: Hopefully this chapter took care of your question! But for the other one…no, he doesn't know that James is alive. In fact, at present, no one but Juliana and Adéla do. Soon, however, that might change!

**Fiona**: glad you liked it – hope you like this one!

**Midnight Lilly**: Oh, does he ever. Harry forgive him? (snort) I sure wouldn't. But we don't know the whole story yet (no pun intended) so things may change!

So, everyone, please review, even if it's only to tell me that James should die a very slow and painful death! I love hearing what you think – Laren.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I own what you do not recognize; the rest, sadly, is not mine 

**A/N: **Sorry about the slight delay…only two more weeks of exams, and then summer!

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 7

_Hamilton, Canada, 1996_

"James?"

Cursing under his breath, James quickly stuck his finger in his mouth, wincing at the pain from hitting it with the hammer lying forgotten on the floor before him.

"Mmm?" he answered, but Adéla had already appeared at the doorway to the small former study.

"Hey, did you pick up those…uh..." she paused, noting the pained look on her husband's face.

"Hammer slipped." James explained, looking so petulant that she laughed as she went to him, slipping her arms around his waist.

"Of course it did," she teased, enjoying the embarrassed look on his face. "They're just so darn tricky, those hammers."

James scowled at her, and she laughed again, hugging him tightly.

"Sorry," she grinned up at him, and he felt his irritation begin to fade. He was about to grumble some more, though, when he suddenly felt movement against his lower stomach, accompanied by a slight "oomph!" from Adéla.

"Ooh, I'm telling you, I cannot wait for you to be out and doing that in your own bed!" she exclaimed, pulling away from James and caressing her belly. "Then you won't be keeping me up at night anymore!"

James looked at the crib he'd been working on, running a hand across its partially finished structure. "Well, this'll be finished in no time. Then our little Jamesina…"

"I told you, James, we are _not_ going to name our daughter Jamesina! Of all the ridiculous things to call a little baby, I mean, _honestly_!"

James grinned inwardly, knowing that it was every bit as ridiculous an idea as she said. He'd taken to calling her that from the moment he knew it was a girl, despite the fact that he had absolutely no intentions of naming her that. If she were anything like her mother, though, he'd have fun teasing her with the name. Outwardly he looked hurt, putting on that slightly closed off expression he wore when he was genuinely upset.

"Déla," he said quietly. "I know it might sound a little…old-fashioned…" Adéla snorted, bending down to inspect the half-finished crib. "But that's because it _is_ old; it was my grandmother's name, and my mum and dad named me after her."

Adéla stopped short, standing up quickly and stared at him in absolute horror for a moment before looking apologetic. "Oh," she said, her voice very small. "Oh, right…oh, James, I'm sorry…I didn't even…" her expression suddenly became very suspicious.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms in utter disgust before walking away quickly. "I should've known better than to listen to your usual nonsense!"

James grinned after her. "Well, she was Elizabeth Jamesina Potter…it's true, honestly!"

'And she bloody well hated the name,' he thought, chuckling to himself at the annoyed "Hmpfh!" that came from the hallway.

Still smiling, he turned back to his work, bending down to pick up the hammer before realizing that he'd rather take a break.

"Seriously, though," he continued, once he'd found her inside their bathroom. "What do you think about names? We haven't really thought of any yet."

"Besides Jamesina?" Adéla muttered dryly. "No, actually." She sat down on the edge of the bathtub, eyeing him curiously. "Any ideas?"

James stared blankly at her. "Don't ask me," he groaned. "I'm horrible at this. With Harry, I couldn't decide on anything…not until a week before he was born."

Adéla smiled wryly. "Well, let's see, then…I'm more into, well, traditional names,"

"I'm with you there," James nodded. "Let's just stick to something nice and easy. I don't want any little brats teasing my daughter about a name she had no say in."

"Well, your grandmother's name…Elizabeth – I like that."

"Mmm…"

"Natasha?"

"Nah…."

"Hannah?"

"Hmm, you know, that's an idea…" James brightened slightly.

"Alright, there's a start," Adéla began, but James's face suddenly fell.

"No, Hannah won't work. Dated a girl called Hannah once, and…"

Adéla raised an eyebrow. "Didn't go so well? Alright, then, how about Allison? You know, I really like that. Allison…Allison Potter."

James shook his head slowly. "Not quite right. Hang on, I think I've got one; how does Rebecca sound? Hear it out…Rebecca Potter."

"Oh, yeah, that is nice," Adéla agreed, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. "Yeah, that reminds me of that girl from work…Rebecca-Julie, her name is."

"You want to hyphenate?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, no…it just…that's a name I've always liked, James. Not Julie, Juliana. Juliana Potter sounds really nice…at least, I think it does."

James found himself staring at her, unable to tear his gaze away as his heart thumped rapidly in his chest. Why on earth was he reacting like this? There was no way that Adéla would know anything about his aunt…why was he so afraid of her knowing? 'It's just a name she liked,' he told himself. 'And Aunt Jules is just a person…there's no reason to be ridiculous.'

"Er…" he stammered, before clearing his throat and forcing a chuckle. "Déla, I thought you said you wanted something uncomplicated."

Adéla looked curiously at him, but, much to James's relief, obviously decided to drop the subject.

"Fine…not that, then. Kimberly?"

Adéla continued to throw out suggestions, soon dragging him out to the bookstore to pick up a book on baby names, but James's mind had left the endeavour, completely focused on calming himself down after the moment of raw panic he'd had when Adéla mentioned Juliana. Even as they sat at a small outdoor restaurant, Adéla poring over the books they'd purchased, he found his head swiveling from side to side, surveying the street for anything that looked even remotely suspicious. It didn't take long for Adéla to pick up on his unease, her smile at having found the name 'Lauren' disappearing quickly.

"James?" she asked. "Uh…did you want to head home?"

He smiled gratefully at her, nodding, and they left, Adéla trying to find names that went nicely with Lauren and Rebecca along the way. Even when they got home, though, James found that his impression of unease had only intensified.

Adéla disappeared with the books almost as soon as they were in the door, and James stumbled up to the study – no, the baby's room, he corrected himself, and collapsed into the lone easy-chair, staring hard out the window as if the sky held the answer to all of life's problems. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was failing again, failing again to look after the people closest to him. He couldn't fail again…he couldn't run again.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered.

* * *

_Little Hangleton, England, 1996_

"Nott! Augustus!"

The two men turned around slowly, Nott, who had removed his mask, grinning at the smaller man.

"Still alive, Wormtail?" he jeered, much to the amusement of Rookwood, who had audibly growled at Peter's usage of his given name. Peter bit his tongue, swallowing his pride instead, wincing through the after-effects of Voldemort's _Crucio_'s and straightening his shoulders.

'Later,' he thought. 'Later, it won't be like this.'

"I'm alive. In fact…" he paused, making sure that the two men were still, at the least, paying him some attention. "In fact, a certain 'other person' is also alive…and I think that you might be interested to know just who…given how close you two were to Rosier."

It was as if he had whipped them; their heads snapped around to look at him, Rookwood, slowly taking off his mask to stare at the younger man. "Stephen Potter is dead." He spat. "They're all dead; at least, soon, they'll all be."

Peter nodded sagely. "Yes, that is true."

Nott laughed then, roughly, and turned to go. "If that's all you've got, Wormtail, then I'll just be on my way."

Peter panicked momentarily; he needed Nott for this. With the Dark Lord being rather displeased with him, he couldn't pull this off; at least, not on his own. "Nott!" he called again, pleased when the man slowed. "Technically…there is one other Potter who yet lives. Although…she-"

"_She_?"

Peter smiled. It had been over twenty years, yes, but Juliana Malfoy would still be a veritable wellspring of information. And then…things would be looking a lot better for Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

_England, December 1981_

The young woman banged frantically on the door, stamping her foot in frustration as she waited for it to be answered.

"Rem!" she called. "Look, I know you're there, and I know you're avoiding me, but we have to talk _now!_"

No one answered her; that is, it was only the little old lady in the flat across the hall that flew out, brandishing a rolled up newspaper and attempting to give the petite brunette a good beating.

"You people, always coming and going! Have you no – respect – for – the – well – being – of – others!"

"No, Mrs. Heatherton, no…I just need to see Remus, that's all, please, it's really important…"

The irate old woman, however, was having none of it, and continued to beat away with her evening edition of the _Times_ until a pair of strong arms pulled the struggling young woman away from Mrs. Heatherton, dragging her into a dirty, rather dingy flat.

"Remus!" she began, but he had abruptly pulled away from her and put down the bag he'd been carrying.

"You were making a scene, Cassandra."

She stared incredulously at him. "_I_ was making a scene? I was making a scene! What about-" she stopped short, having finally taken a good look at his decrepit appearance as well as his filthy surroundings. "Oh, Remus…" she whispered.

"Was there a reason for you banging down my door, Cass?" Remus asked, his voice tired. "I'd rather be alone right now, Cassandra…I thought you understood that."

"It's about Sirius, Remus…" she began, but never got any further, instead very quickly finding herself outside his flat despite her protests. Mentally kicking herself, she made her way down the stairs out to the back of the building. She should have known better than to bring up Sirius around Remus, not so soon after everything.

'But you had to,' she told herself, rounding a corner and checking to see that no one was looking. 'You had to…Sirius is innocent! I have to tell someone.' Finding that she was alone, she grasped her wand and prepared to apparate. 'Dumbledore,' she thought suddenly. 'I can go to Dumbledore.'

Setting her jaw, she was about to apparate to Hogsmeade and head to Hogwarts when she stopped short. 'But he's not at Hogwarts right now…'

Racking her brains as to where the headmaster would be and failing, she shook her head and apparated home. 'I'll just have to…'

And then Cassandra's world went green for a moment, before fading permanently to black.

"Well that's taken care of." The man sniggered.

"Quite. The little bint gave me a turn when I realized she'd listened in on that little _conversation_." His companion commented, before turning back towards her body. "You don't think she managed to tell anyone, do you?"

"No," the first drawled. "Did you not see how worried she looked? No, I wager she was about to go off running to that half-breed lover of hers. Pity she was unsuccessful."

"Such a shame."

And then they disappeared into thin air, leaving Cassandra's body sprawled on the floor of her living room, a look of momentary panic across her normally pretty features. The next morning, Remus Lupin never got out of bed, tears flowing silently down his face and falling onto his new edition of the _Daily Prophet._

_Young Woman Found Dead In Her Home!_

**

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A/N: there it is! I actually didn't like this chapter as much…mind you, that may have to do with the fact that I am currently music-less at the moment (my stereo broke) and as such I was unable to listen the song I usually do when I write this. Thanks to all my reviewers from the last chapter…aha, you agreed with me about James! Well, he'll be improving…I guarantee that that was him at rock bottom.**

**Froboy**: Yes, James is definitely an idiot. He's also human, hence his less than desirable response the stresses imposed by Voldemort's first rise. I'm really glad you liked it, though!

**tweeny-weeny**: I'm glad I answered your other question. As for James's possible return…well, yes, it would most definitely crush Harry. He's already _very_ disillusioned with his father, and as he finds out more and more…well, let's just say that if James suddenly shows up at Privet Drive, Harry may just get to the point were he wishes that James had just stayed dead.

**megaroony**: I'm really glad you like it! (and I hope you keep on reading…I may have gone for the confusing route again in this chapter…lemme know if I've lost you!) p.s. thanks for the stars! All…3,467,982,610 of them! P

**Silver Angel 7**: Yeah…Harry forgiving James? Oh, that's a funny one. Mind you…who knows what'll happen? Oh wait, I do! (lol) And I know James is being awful…which is surprisingly easy to write, actually. You'd think it'd be easier to make him the heroic dad, but from what we've seen of him in the fifth book, he's definitely not all good all the time.

**pinkraindrop21**: hmm, how James survived the killing curse…to answer your question; another question! Did the killing curse actually _hit_ James? I'm really glad you like it; I'll address all those issues soon, I promise!

**Cherrysinger**: I know I've said it before….but I love your reviews! No, no one knows that James is alive besides Adéla and Juliana. James knows about Adéla's family heritage…that particular scene (I'm glad you reminded me about it; I have other reasons for wanting to put that in the story!) will be coming soon. I'm so glad I confused you less! Although, I may have done it some more with this chapter…man, skipping through time is hard to write!

**Lovin'Moony**: ah, you and Mrs. Heatherton could start a club with your newspapers…guess where I got the idea from; thanks, by the way! James only lost it because of all the stress; I don't see him as a person who would normally take such personal opinions to the extreme like that. He's getting better! (ducks rolled papers) I promise!

**Eve**: whoa, loaded question: does James love Adéla more than Lily? I don't know right now, but if you check my bio page there will be a link to my msn 'space' where you're more than welcome to start a discussion about that…it's not something that I've spent too much time thinking about yet, although you're right: I do intend to address it at some point in the future.

**Nineida**: ah, you make me laugh…yes, In fact, I'm not just suggesting that they had marital problems; I'm outright telling you! However, their problems are due mostly to stress…other than that I think that they'd be more like any other normal couple. And as for Sirius, interestingly enough, Sirius is _not_ key to the story (I'd hadn't thought of that before!) and so whether or not he's 'dead' or 'alive' is really up to all of the readers.

**Swordsmistress**: cookies! Well, wait no longer, here is the next chapter! I'm glad you still like it…keep on reading; it's going to get better!

So, once more, everyone, thanks so much for all your reviews…I love your responses; in fact, you're all asking such good questions that I've started up an msn 'space' called Laren's place (creative, I know) where I'll be keeping a semi-blog about this story, and you are all more than welcome to post any thoughts, questions, etc, so that you don't have to wait for ages for me to respond (but don't stop reviewing, though! Reviews keep me going!) The link will be on my ffnet bio, so feel free to check it out! - Laren


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I own what you don't recognize, and unfortunately, nothing more

**A/N**: Hah! Writer's block, begone! It took me a while, but I've finally finished this chapter. One more week and exams are done; summer, here I come!

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 8

_Hogwarts Express, September 1st, 1996_

"Harry! Hermione…in here!"

Harry looked up ahead and saw Ron leaning out of a compartment, waving wildly to get their attention. He grinned back, letting Hermione pull him through the throng of students trying to find a place to sit for the train ride back to school.

"Hi, Ron," he began, feeling pleased to see his friend. Suddenly he pitched forward as a very warm body collided into him, almost knocking him to the ground.

"Oh, sorry, Harry," came Ginny Weasley's rather embarrassed voice. "I think I tripped over something…oh…eww…Neville! Neville, I've found Trevor."

Beside him, he heard Hermione tut-tutting as Neville came out of a nearby compartment, looking around frantically. Ginny merely grinned unrepentantly at Neville, poking Trevor as she picked up the now spilled contents of a bag she'd been carrying.

"Don't worry, Neville, I didn't actually step on him or anything; he'll be fine."

Harry shook his head and turned back towards Ron, but found that his best friend was now hidden behind an extremely pretty black-haired girl. Harry blushed slightly as she smirked; in his momentary confusion he'd been staring at her. Feeling rather foolish, he bent his head slightly and walked on, trying his best not to look at her as she passed by. He would have succeeded, too, had it not been for her tripping on a small round object that Ginny had apparently failed to pick up. Reflexes kicking in, he quickly leaned forward and caught her before she fell. Startled, she looked up at him, the amused look she'd been sporting earlier gone in her bewilderment. Harry stared back unashamedly, not registering Ginny's snickering in the background as he and the girl locked eyes.

Suddenly, though, she seemed to regain her composure, and with a hastily muttered 'thanks', slipped out of his grasp to hurry on down the train. Ginny was laughing fully now, Ron joining in as Harry walked into their compartment with his face flushed red. Hermione looked extremely amused, as did Neville; and it seemed that even Luna, who had apparently been talking to Ron earlier, was laughing at him.

This was the last straw for Harry, who raised his chin defiantly to stare his 'friends' down. "_What_?" he snapped, eyes flashing enough that the laughter faded.

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione ventured. "But that…that was priceless, really."

"Looks like Cho's been replaced, no?" Ron teased, and Harry glared at him.

"It was just her eyes, really…they were so blue." He tried to defend himself, knowing the second the words left his mouth that he'd only made matters worse. "No, really!" he insisted, as another fresh wave of laughter erupted in the small compartment. "They seemed so familiar."

" '_It was just her eyes'_" howled Ron, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. "Did you hear him, Neville… 'they were so blue'!"

"Ron," admonished Hermione, although she was visibly trying to hold in her own laughter. "Ron, shut up!"

It took several minutes, though, before everyone calmed down, Harry's earlier pleasant mood now completely replaced by both confusion and irritation. He _knew_ he'd seen her eyes before…

"Er…" he tried, once everyone was silent. "So…don't start on me again, but…does anyone know who she is?"

Ron and Neville predictably shrugged their shoulders. "Er, she's a Ravenclaw, I think…" Hermione began. "Fifth year, right, Gin?"

"Yeah…" Ginny agreed, but Luna shook her head.

"No…not a Ravenclaw, but she does have several Ravenclaw friends."

"Right," Ginny picked up. "Yeah, I remember now. Nadia Zabini."

"Zabini?" Neville looked confused. "A Slytherin, then?"

Ginny nodded.

"Zabini?" Harry asked. "Like…Zabini, in our year?" He frowned. Maybe, he thought, trying to call up an image of the Slytherin boy to mind. Maybe that's why she was so familiar…

"He's her uncle, actually." Luna commented, and everyone's head swivelled towards her

"He's her _uncle_?" Ron said incredulously, echoing Harry's thoughts. Luna, however, simply turned to the window, and it was Ginny who spoke.

"Well, yeah, Ron. Her dad is Blaise's half-brother…you know, different mothers and all. Mum explained it to me once, I don't remember the whole story, but there was this huge scandal."

"Ooh, yes, it was in Hogwarts, A History," Hermione jumped in eagerly, and everyone rolled their eyes. She gave no indication that she had noticed, however, and continued. "Apparently, back in 1971, a seventh-year girl got pregnant while she was still in school. It caused quite the disturbance, because she was the daughter of a prominent pureblood family, and the father was the heir to another old wizarding family. People in the school took sides, and there was a huge inter-house war; four students were expelled."

Harry frowned. "And that was Nadia's parents? But if she was born in 1971…then…the dates don't add up."

"No, that was her older brother or sister; they'd have long graduated by now."

"Oh," Harry said, still utterly confused as to why her eyes were affecting him so greatly. Ron smirked at him.

"Still thinking about those blue eyes, mate?"

"Shaddup…" Harry grumbled. Ron grinned at him before pulling out a pack of cards.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?"

* * *

_Hogwarts, 1977_

"Aunt Jules?"

The rat perked its ears, listening intently. A small part of him felt guilty for following James to the Room of Requirement, but the bespectacled young man had looked so urgent and hadn't even told Sirius or Remus where he was going; the reason they had asked Peter to follow him. So far he'd done nothing spectacular…but this…something told him that he was about to hear something very, very important.

"James!" came a woman's soft voice. "How's my favourite nephew?"

"I'm fine, Aunt Jules…and I know you said not to contact you unless it was an emergency, what with you being…well, supposedly dead and all."

Peter's small rat eyes widened, his mind on the brink of remembering just why that piece of information was so very significant.

James, though, had lowered his voice, and no matter how hard he strained, Peter couldn't hear anything else. Sighing internally, he settled down and waited for James to finish talking, unable to leave the room in his rat form. Soon enough, James got up and strode to the door, his face looking far less worried than it had before. Peter quickly followed him out, transforming as soon as he found the shadows to do so. By the time he returned to the common room, James had already gone upstairs with Remus, Sirius waiting for Peter by the fireplace.

"So?" he asked. "Prongs obviously looked better…what'd he do?"

"He just…" and Peter gasped. Juliana Malfoy, whom the world thought had been dead for five years, was _alive_.

"What?" Sirius demanded, curiousity piqued by Peter's dramatic intake of air.

"Oh!" Peter realized, stopping just short of blurting out his revelation. "Sorry…I just realized I forgot to do the transfiguration homework for tomorrow! McGonagall's going to kill me!"

Sirius looked thoroughly annoyed. "That's it?"

"Yeah…sorry, Padfoot…he just paced around, muttering under his breath. I couldn't hear a thing he said, but it looks like he's sorted things out, no?"

His friend gave him a withering glare before standing up. "Well, thanks Pete. Remus has the homework, by the way…just copy it off of him."

"Right." Peter said, giving him a small salute. Sirius smirked before sauntering across the fairly empty room towards the staircases. Peter, however, remained staring at the fire, wondering why he hadn't told Sirius that James's aunt was alive. 'If James doesn't want him to know' he reasoned, ignoring the voice that pointed out that _he,_ Peter, shouldn't know either. 'Then I won't say anything.'

* * *

_Malfoy Manor, September, 1996_

"Gabriella! How are you? I trust you're keeping well?"

Narcissa Malfoy smiled warmly at her friend as she stepped into the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, noting with satisfaction that the brunette's eyes rested on the newly hung portrait of their family.

"Do you like it, dear?" she asked, knowing that Gabriella did. "We had it done just before Draco left for school."

Gabriella turned away from the painting to smile at Narcissa. "It's lovely," she commented, not bothering to add the fact that the painter had quite skilfully deleted ten years from Narcissa's face. "Draco is growing up to be quite a handsome young man. I hear the young ladies are quite taken with him."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, not fooled by Gabriella's praise of her son. She still smiled, though, leading the way through the hallways to a high-ceilinged room where tea for two had been laid out.

"Are they really?" she asked as they seated themselves.

"Why, of course," Gabriella responded. "I hear that one Miss Parkinson is _especially_ intrigued by him."

She smirked at the tightening of Narcissa's lips; it was no secret that the blond woman considered the pug-nosed girl to be quite beneath her son.

"Well, Nadia informed me that she met Harry Potter on the train; he was quite taken with her, apparently."

Narcissa laughed. "Harry Potter," she said rather derisively. "Is nowhere near good enough for your Nadia." Gabriella smiled at her then, and Narcissa's eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed suspiciously. "But then, we can't be too hasty, Gabriella,"

"Oh?"

"Of course," Narcissa continued, enjoying her upper hand. "I mean, given the _tragic_ circumstances with your Adéla-"

Gabriella's eyes flashed momentarily before she composed herself, looking coolly at Narcissa. "It has been many years, but Michael and I have finally been able to move past her most unfortunate death. Nadia, however, is an excellent young woman, with much promise."

Narcissa regarded her levelly before gesturing to a plate of small biscuits. "Of course," she smiled generously. "Nadia and Draco will make a wonderful match. I shall speak to Lucius about it when he returns. I am certain he will be most open to the idea."

Gabriella smiled back at the other woman, graciously accepting a biscuit.

"Speaking of Lucius," Narcissa suddenly spoke again, and Gabriella looked up, intrigued despite herself. Narcissa rarely bothered herself with her husband unless it was a matter of importance; which, of course, was infinitely preferable to mindless chatter about the latest fashions.

"Yes?"

"Well, dear, I happened to be walking by his study one day…"

Gabriella had to hold back a snort; Narcissa was a notorious eavesdropper, whether in person or through her house-elves.

"And Pettigrew was there, evidently asking for money for some ridiculous excursion or another."

This time she allowed herself a small smirk. Lucius had had to spend a huge part of his fortune in order to gain freedom from Azkaban, and she knew that Narcissa had been rueing the suddenly much depleted Malfoy 'fortune'.

"And my husband, being the generous soul he is…" _heartless, conniving bastard_ "…agreed to help him. Naturally, this caught my attention…" _because you have no money in the first place…it's why you want your son to marry my daughter _" And so I listened for a moment. Ella…"

Gabriella made no attempt to hide her curiousity this time; Narcissa only reverted to her childhood nickname when she was extremely excited. "Cissa?" she asked, unconsciously doing the same.

"Pettigrew needed money because he had to find someone, someone who disappeared a long time ago; someone we all thought was dead."

"Cease the theatrics, Cissa." Gabriella demanded, her patience completely gone. If Narcissa was referring to who she thought she was…

The blond scowled, but continued nonetheless. "Juliana, Ella."

Gabriella's mouth hung open. "Juliana Malfoy?" she managed, a smile beginning to form on her face.

"Juliana Malfoy." Narcissa affirmed, and smirked at the utter look of satisfaction on Gabriella's features. "Oh, I know, Ella, I know."

Gabriella smiled lazily at Narcissa. "I assume they're going…ahem…_persuade_ her to ah, _divulge_ her secrets?"

"You assume correctly, Madam Zabini."

Both women snapped around to the doorway, where Lucius Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, looking rather amused at the surprised look on their faces.

"Oh, come now, ladies. Narcissa isn't the only one who just _happens_ to stroll by private conversations."

Gabriella noted that her friend's face had flushed, a small pink dot visible on each cheek. She, however, stared unashamedly at Lucius. "What I'd like to know," she said, looking him in the eye. "is when this is taking place, and how I can become a part of it."

"Gabriella!" Narcissa exclaimed; and for a second, Gabriella's heart beat wildly as Lucius simply held her gaze. After a moment, though, he smirked, walking forward and offering her his hand.

"Narcissa, darling, you will not mind if I borrow your guest?" His wife merely nodded, calling to a house-elf to clear the tea. Gabriella smiled at Lucius and rose, taking his hand as she did so.

"Ah, my dear Madam Zabini, I _knew_ there was a reason I liked you…"

* * *

_Hamilton, Canada, September 1996_

"James?"

He stilled his movements instantly, mentally slapping himself for his tossing and turning. He rolled onto his back, turning his head to look at his sleepy wife.

"Sorry, Déla," he murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Mmm," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I was having trouble sleeping anyway. Jamesina decided to exercise her legs tonight."

James chuckled. "Can't decide between Rebecca or Allison, can you?"

"Yes, and you're no help, Mr. I-like-them-both-just-fine-so-why-don't-you-pick?"

James snorted, and she sighed, slipping closer towards him and laying her head on his shoulder.

"So why couldn't you sleep?"

"Hmm? Oh, just thinking," he replied, putting an arm around her. "Adéla…what do you think about…moving?"

"Moving?" she looked up at him quizzically. "You mean, somewhere far away, or close by? The house is big enough for us and the baby and then some, so I don't see why we need to…"

"No, I meant far away."

Adéla was silent for a moment before turning to look up at him again. "No, I haven't thought about it. I thought you liked it here."

"Oh, I do, I do," James assured her. "I was just…wondering, that's all."

"Alright," his wife murmured, snuggling closer to him. "Well, think about it in the morning, baby, and let's go back to sleep."

"Mmm," James replied, and soon enough, Adéla's breathing became rhythmical, her chest rising and falling slightly as she slept. He, however, simply lay still in the dark, holding onto the woman at his side. 'I can't,' he thought, his hand softly caressing her bare skin. 'I can't run again.'

**

* * *

A/N: I hope that was slightly longer; but don't expect any huge chapters until I'm finished for the year…although seeing as that will be in a week or so, that's coming soon. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially…**

**Cherrysinger**: hmm, make Harry go to Canada? That's a good idea… but I've got a very definite idea about how Harry is going to meet up with his dad and step-mom that is extremely crucial to the plot line. Other persons may be coming to Canada, though…hint hint! (p.s. That _wasn't _a long review? Lol – thanks anyhow!)

**Swordsmistress**: Yeah, there's a small part of me that actually wants to name baby girl Potter Jamesina just for kicks. Sorry, but Cassandra just had to die. I'll see what I can do about Sirius…it'd have to be believable, you see, and that's the hard part.

**tweeny-weeny:** Harry and James will meet. At least, _sort of_. I can't say anymore…it'd give away the whole story! I think this chapter was longer…I struggled with last weeks, hence the slightly shorter length. But yeah, things are definitely moving along.

**Chrissy8887779999**: my goodness that is a _lot_ of numbers. To answer you…there was a flashback there, but unlike ones in recent chapters, it flowed as a part of the narrative, since the circumstances with Adéla are very similar to those he'd experienced 17 years previously with Lily. Glad you liked it, though!

Alright, I think that's everyone…thanks so much for reviewing, guys. So…gold star to anyone who can figure out why Harry can't stop thinking about Nadia's eyes…there's a reason, I promise, and it's in the story! Also…anyone got any good names for baby girl Potter? As you can see, I'm still undecided…and I don't want to get too attached to Jamesina! Feel free to sound off about anything in the chapter – Laren.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: Oh, I can only dream…but no, only the plot and anything you _don't _recognize is mine. 

**A/N:** _(Repost for grammatical errors)_ This is dedicated to **Lovin'Moony**, who besides making me blush like crazy inspired me to get off my butt and get some writing done. School is _finally_ out, but after all the craziness I was strangely uninspired and have been fighting my way through writer's block ever since. Have no fear, though, as I have seen through to the end of this story, which means that it will be posted in its entirety in the near future. If I ever take too long to update…just review and bug me to get some writing in! Trust me, it works every time!

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 9

_Hogwarts, late September, 1996_

"Ah, Severus! Do come in."

"Headmaster," the tall man acknowledged, sinking rather ungracefully into a proffered chair. Once seated, he sighed, sure he knew what was to be said next.

"You are, of course, quite alright?"

He grinned inwardly, only allowing a small smirk to appear on his face. It was ever the first question asked of him whenever he returned from the…the _meetings_, and he still found himself both amused and annoyed at the genuine concern in the old man's voice. Or was it? Which, he reflected, was exactly what annoyed him so; his Slytherin mind couldn't help but wonder whether or not Dumbledore's concern was for him as the spy or him as a person.

"I have not been physically hurt in any way; if that is your meaning, Headmaster."

Ah, there it was. That slight narrowing of corn blue eyes that told him he'd said the wrong thing, and that, contrary to his original intent, he'd not only not saved himself a lecture, but earned a 'talk' on his 'immense worth, value and extreme importance as a person first and foremost'.

"Albus," he quickly continued, seeing the headmaster sit up in his chair and lean forward. "Albus, whilst the meeting was fairly uneventful…I feel that some of the others are…planning something."

Severus had to fight back the smirk that threatened to emerge at the obvious curiousity the older man was radiating. The headmaster was like a little child sometimes; a trait, which Severus noted, was often his weakness and simultaneously, his strength. "Pettigrew…Albus, Pettigrew and a few others; although I do not believe it is more than five, or Voldemort would know…have been quite obviously seeking to regain favour lost over the past year."

"If I may interrupt?"

He scowled; it wasn't as if he really had a choice. "Of course, Headmaster."

"Then, may we also assume that a Malfoy is involved?"

"Yes, of course…" Severus sat up straight in his seat, knowing that Dumbledore's choice of wording had been completely deliberate. "How did you…" was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back, drawing his robes around him and holding his chin high.

"Yes; as far as I have been able to ascertain, _Malfoy_ is involved. Yet it would seem that it is almost about Malfoy; or at least, their family, which is why I am at a loss as to what they could be planning, Albus." He watched the old man carefully, irritated to find no hint of his thoughts on his countenance.

"Then we must find out, Severus; I do not think that I need to remind you of the danger of these attacks designed to…impress Voldemort."

Severus nodded curtly, and after a few more minutes of reporting, left the office, making his way back towards his rooms. Albus was right; he in no way needed reminding of just how dangerous and horrifying those kinds of attacks could be, when the Deatheaters' only goal was to kill as many persons as possible in hopes of gaining favourable attention from Riddle. He frowned as he recalled that evening, its events and the actions of others puzzling him. He'd known Lucius Malfoy long enough to recognize certain looks, small gestures that told the observant watcher that Malfoy knew a lot more than did those that were with him; in fact, they often meant that he was very much in control of the situation, and in this case, Severus was almost certain that it was no different. Pettigrew certainly appeared to be the instigator, and it was only natural that he should go to Malfoy for help; even with his reduced fortunes, the silver-haired man still had vast contacts.

And it should have been perfectly normal for Malfoy to take over the mission; in his arrogance, it was his habitual way of living, and when he desperately needed to gain favour himself, it was only natural that he should try and play a key role in their latest scheme.

"But, Peter, Peter," Malfoy had said, shaking his head slightly and smiling, "Peter…if we have been deceived for so many years, then we cannot afford to be hasty; we must make our…_preparations_ with care."

Suddenly, just as he reached the door to his rooms, Severus realized just what had been bothering him so much. Malfoy had _smiled_, not his normal, smug half-smile that he frequently utilized to charm those around him, but a real, complete smile that even reached his eyes. And when Pettigrew had turned away, the smile had only widened. Severus _knew_ that smile, knew that it could only mean one thing; Malfoy's joy in pure, unadulterated revenge. Rubbing his forehead in frustration, he muttered the password and strode into his rooms, heading straight for a desk in the far corner of his living room and taking out a small leather-bound notebook. Sighing, he seated himself in the lone wing chair and began to peruse the book's contents, scanning name after name for anything that could possibly jog his memory. Who on earth was Malfoy after? Who was it that the mission merited such secrecy?

High above him, tucked away in Gryffindor tower, a skinny, messy haired sixteen-year-old was sitting upright in bed, awake in the dark silence of the sixth-year boys dormitory, utterly confused as to whether or not his latest dream was worth seeing the headmaster for. It was fading away, too, the shadows, whispers, and thankfully, the screams and the pain. One part, though, stood out in his mind…his feeling of amusement at the petty dealings of his…no, _Tom's_ Deatheaters, and even mild curiousity as to what they were planning. Frowning deeply, Harry settled himself back into bed, trying to clear his mind properly before sleeping again. Finally satisfied that he had done so, he relaxed, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier until they finally closed, darkness taking him. That is, until Nadia's eerily familiar bright blue eyes appeared in his minds' eye, staring at him with such intensity that Harry turned his face into his pillow to try and avoid them. After a few heart-stopping moments, they disappeared, but not before a single name had etched itself onto Harry's consciousness, running through his mind over and over again and preventing any possible chance of returning to sleep.

…_Sirius…_

_

* * *

The Three Broomsticks, England, October 26th, 1981 _

Remus frowned into his butterbeer, his face such a picture of consternation that the woman with him laughed and lifted his face up to hers.

"What…did the universe suddenly cease to exist and no one told me?"

Remus rolled his eyes at Cassandra, not bothering to hide his grimace at her rather bad joke. "I'm fine, Cass…just doing some thinking."

She snorted, but let her had drop to his arm, where she gave him a soft squeeze. "Well it looked as if you were trying to Avada the mug into oblivion." She smiled when he chuckled wryly at that; pleased that she'd managed to at least bring him partway from the pit of depression he'd been in since the beginning of that month.

"Remus…I…" she had to say it, while she had this window, "Remus, I know you're upset about James and Sirius, but…" and faltered – his eyes were on her, practically looking through her in their intensity, staring her down with their clear tawny gaze.

It took her a full minute to realize that he _wasn't_ looking at her, that he was, in fact, gazing just past her, over to the door, where a determined looking James Potter was slowly but steadily making his way through the crowded pub to their table. Still unnerved by Remus's look, she could only stare open mouthed at the man, the man who along with that pompous ass Sirius Black was making Remus's life far more hellish than he deserved. By the time she'd recovered enough to glare heatedly at James, he and Remus were talking, albeit hesitantly, and ceased to give the bespectacled man a look of death and then some when she realized that they were actually making civilized conversation.

Still deeply mistrustful, though, she continued to simmer inwardly, gratefully excusing herself when she spotted a friend at a nearby table. James watched her go with open curiousity, at last turning back to Remus with a quirky half-grin on his face.

"She is a looker, Moony, I'll give you that."

Remus shook his head before smiling weakly back at his friend. "Why are you here, Prongs?"

James shrugged. "I saw you inside…thought I'd drop by seeing as it's probably the…the…"

Remus looked levelly at him. "…The…what?" When James merely coloured and remained silent, he chuckled, smiling properly.

"See, Prongs? We all have our secrets."

"But we're best friends, Remus. I…we…we shouldn't have…"

Remus looked down at his drink, giving it a swirl before picking up the mug to drain its contents. "Yeah, we shouldn't. But sometimes, James, sometimes…"

James frowned. "But, that's part of friendship, right, taking those risks of telling people…" He trailed off, schooling his features into a pleasant look as he saw Cassandra approaching, her friend leaving the pub.

"Cass," Remus greeted, scooting around to make room for her, but James's attention was now captured by the appearance of Peter in the doorway from the street. Suddenly he swivelled around, his face earnest and slightly worried.

"No secrets, right…" he muttered, glancing at Cassandra before swallowing hard and turning to Remus. "Remus…Lily and I…I'm getting Peter to…he's…" he looked down at the table. "Remus…I don't know if I'm doing the right thing here, but I _have to_, you see, but then I'm so confused, and…well, there's been this whole mess with Lily…_I really shouldn't be telling you this_."

His voice faltered as Peter reached their table, the smile on his face frozen at the sight of them; Remus, confusion and deep concern written all over his features, Cassandra, alternating between angry and sympathetic, and James, whose face he couldn't see but his shoulders hunched as he slumped over the table.

"J-James," he stammered. "There you are. Hullo Remus…Cassandra."

"Pettigrew," Cassandra acknowledged. Remus and James stayed silent, eyes locked; it wasn't until Cassandra kicked Remus sharply that he looked up and noticed his friend.

"Pete! Oh, hullo," He smiled kindly, but it was obvious to all that his mind was entirely preoccupied elsewhere. His words, however, seemed to jog James out of his stupor, and he jumped up, nearly knocking Peter over in the process.

"Pete…hi…right…I'll be right with you! Sorry about that, Remus…well, we all have our secrets, right?"

Remus simply nodded, his eyes following James and Peter as they left the pub together, apparently discussing something of importance.

"Alright," It was Cassandra who spoke first, breaking the small cushion of silence surrounding their small table. "I take it that he apologized for being an arse and you two made up…but, er…what was that?"

"…I…I haven't got the faintest." He told her, and as he said it, he almost began to believe it himself. He knew – well, of course, he didn't _actually_ know, but it was all too clear that the stress of the past few months had hit his friend much harder than anyone had anticipated, and now, if he was right…James was going to do something drastic. Something not fully thought through and, whether or not it might actually be the right thing, it would be done solely out of sheer desperation. It was true, he thought, we do have our secrets…but the one James was carrying…_it's too much. _

"Mmm?" Cassandra asked, still looking rather bewildered at recent events. Remus stared at her for a second before shaking his head.

"He's an Auror…I should've known he'd be under a lot of stress."

"Ah," she nodded; to her, this explained it all. "Right then. Well, then, maybe he _should_ be telling you whatever it was he started. Otherwise…he'll snap."

_Yeah, _thought Remus. _That's pretty much it._

_

* * *

Hamilton, Canada, September 29th, 1996 _

'Come on, pick up, Déla…please be there…"

_Riiingg!_

Adéla knocked over the drink beside her at the telephone's harsh sound, swearing lightly under her breath as the light coloured liquid spread over the table. Groaning with frustration, she reached around wildly for the nearest cloth to dry it, racing for the phone when she finally found one.

"Hello?"

"Déla? Baby, it's me."

"James…James, where are you? I've been up waiting for hours for you…are you okay? What happened?"

Despite the barrage of questions she was throwing at him, he could hear the relief in her voice. He knew that she must be able to hear it in his also. "Oh, you're there…good, good…I'm fine, don't worry about me. Déla. I must have dozed off and I went off the side of the road, but I'm fine now…the car's okay, too…I'll be home in half an hour."

James had to hold the phone away from his ear as she shrieked, partly out of relief and partly from sheer anxiety. "You went off the _road!_ Are you alright? Where on earth are you, then? Wait…you're not driving home, are you? If you fell asleep before, James…please, don't take any risks like that!"

"I'm at the police station, baby, and I'm fine. You're right, I shouldn't be driving; that's why I'm calling a cab. I'll head back to the police station for my car tomorrow. But Déla…"

"James, I've been sitting here wondering where on earth you are…"

"I know, baby, and I'm sorry…but look, just…don't leave the house, alright?"

"You'd better be sorry! Suppose something had happened to you? James, I-"

"Don't leave the house, Adéla. Don't go anywhere."

He heard the intake of breath on the other end, knew that she was probably staring at the phone, confused at the sudden change of subject. Suddenly, though, he heard a hiss, as she sucked in air, and began to talk.

"James is it-"

"I have to go, Déla, but just…don't leave, just stay put."

There was silence again, until she finally told him yes and hung up, her voice shaky as she said that she loved him.

"Ready to go, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir, all done." He smiled at the policeman standing nearby, noting that a cab had pulled up outside the station. Guilt flashed through him as he climbed in, sorry that he'd made her worry when she was already quite clearly upset. But he had to make sure, had to know that she'd stay there, where it was at least somewhat safe. Because he hadn't dozed off – yes, he had gone off the road, but it was because he'd felt the magic in the area, a suffocating blanket of searching, probing magic, and part of him had wanted to reach out and shout "Here I am!" but he'd managed to suppress it, hide that part of him away until it had passed, and then, realized that in his sheer terror, he'd gone off the road, his car quite firmly stuck in a ditch. Whoever it was…they may not have been looking for him, but _someone _was out there, searching…and, somehow, he knew that he couldn't afford to get caught up in it.

By the time he finally arrived at their house, Adéla was already hard at work in their bedroom, packing clothes, books, and anything she could put her hands on into several open suitcases.

"Déla…" he managed, and she turned to him, eyes blazing.

"I won't just sit here, James…if they find us, I won't just sit here and wait for my family to come and get me."

Swallowing his own instinct to join her in her packing and run with her before the light of the new day dawned, he sighed, walking over to her and gathering her in his arms. "We don't even know if it was your family…" he began to say, and thought better of it.

"I just dozed off; it was a busy day at work, I was tired…and then, when I heard your voice…"

He trailed off, about to start again and tell her the truth, but then he saw the look in her eyes, how very afraid she was, and knew that he couldn't possibly be honest with her.

"It's probably because of the baby; but I was just so worried all of a sudden…it just hit me that I could have died, and…well…panic attack, I guess."

Adéla pulled away from him, hands on her hips as she stared him down before she sighed and began unpacking. "Well, I've made a right mess of this place, then."

He grinned wryly, leaning forward and taking a shirt out of her hands. "Leave it – we'll do it in the morning."

"Yeah…" she sank down onto their bed. James quickly pulled his clothes off, sliding into the bed in his boxers and pulling the covers back for her to do the same. Adéla smacked his hand gently, climbing in beside him. "Alright, I'm coming."

"But, remember what you said the other day?"

"Mm?"

"You know, about moving?"

Oh, he remembered all right. Now it was ever present in his mind, something he knew they needed to do. But she hadn't wanted to; they had everything they needed right there in that house, she'd said. At least, until that night.

"I remember," he said cautiously. "Why?"

"It's…I think that it might be a good idea, now."

Yeah, James thought. There I go again, running away, except this time with a wife and baby on the way…there's no way we'll make it very far.

'And what then," a voice interrupted his thoughts. 'What then, when you've run and there's no where else to go?'

James shook his head, trying to fight away the obvious conclusion he was coming to, the conclusion that he'd probably already been at for a couple of months. Sighing, he turned onto his side, reaching out for Adéla's belly, resting his hand on it to feel his daughter move.

What then? Then, he knew, he'd have to go back.

**

* * *

A/N: Well, that's me struggling through writer's block. I know the _general_ idea of what's going to happen, but sometimes, the specifics can be more than a little elusive. I certainly hope that you liked it, though. To all those who are actually still reading this and reviewing…Thanks so much! **

**man eating plant**: as you can see from the end of this, James and Harry will be meeting soon…but I can't tell you when yet! Thanks for the names suggestions, (I do really like Micala) but for reasons I explain on my homepage, I'm going with traditional names. If you've got any ideas there – let me know!

**praesul femella: **Yeah, Nadia and Adéla do have the same eyes…but that's not why Harry can't stop thinking about them. Hopefully the chapter gave you the answer to that!

**Swordsmistress**: Sorry…James dated a Hannah once, didn't go well (at least in my story!), so that otherwise lovely name is a no go. I'm glad you like this, though! (now get a move on in posting, chikie, since I've posted)

**Nineida:** That's a great suggestion, actually, I'll have to see if I can work it in. Ahaha, suspense…I don't think I had too much of it in this chapter though.

**Trista:** Glad you like it…like I said, I'm going to do my best with the updates, but the _should_ be fairly regular (key word: 'should')

**Lovin'Moony**: I haven't given up, I promise! ducks rolled newspaper No, really, I'm definitely posting this one the whole way through. I don't know about it being that good a story blushes 'cause I've read some truly amazing stuff out there but you have no idea how cool it is for me that people say they like it! I do love the name Rebecca, but if you go to my homepage…you'll probably see that I'm leaning towards another name. Thanks so much for reviewing!

Alright…I think that's everyone. Seriously guys, if I haven't updated for a while, go to my homepage and say something, or review…I love to hear feedback, and once I get talking about my story, I'll inevitably start writing like mad within a couple of days. If you've got anything you want to say about this chapter, or just want to say hi…review! Name suggestions for Baby Girl Potter are still very much welcomed! -Laren


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Rowling owns it _all._ Sad, isn't it?

**A/N:** Ack. Writer's block is _awful!_ You'd think that being off school would make it easier for me to write. Oh well – here's another chapter for you to (hopefully) enjoy! Many thanks to those of you who reviewed; you keep me going.

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 10

_Hogwarts, 1971_

"Marauders? They call themselves the _Marauders?_"

"I know, I know. They're just children, though…first-years are always strange."

"Yes, but _Marauders?_ So very Gryffindor."

His companion smirked in agreement, and the two Ravenclaw seventh-years walked on, continuing to pick apart the latest 'prank' by the young group of Gryffindor first-years. Contrary to their relaxed attitudes as they sauntered along the hallway, they were deep enough in conversation that the shorter of the two went flying when a harassed looking brunette dropped her bags and books in front of them.

"Whoops," she said, grinning unapologetically at the taller boy, who'd managed to keep his balance. "Terribly sorry about that." She glanced over to where his friend was sitting up, rubbing his arm carefully. "Your friend appears to be hurt."

Michael Zabini stared down at the girl, who was quite calmly picking up her books as if dropping them right in front unsuspecting victims was an everyday occurrence. Suddenly, though, as he took in the rather obvious display of cleavage, he smiled, running a hand through his hair to make sure it was the way he wanted it.

"Zabini! Zabini – Michael! That twit just ran me over! Zabini, you prat, get over here!"

The girl smirked as he ignored the shouts of his friend yelling for help behind him, packing her books away neatly.

"That was quite…blatant, for a Slytherin, no?"

She merely got to her feet, smoothing her skirt down before straightening to look confidently at him. "Well, you tell me, Zabini…did it work?"

"…Black…Gabriella Black?"

"Yes, Zabini?"

He smiled at her, all thoughts of Gryffindor stupidity long gone from his mind. "Michael, Gabriella. Please call me Michael."

_

* * *

Hogwarts, October 6th, 1996_

"Sorry, Nadia,"

Harry almost clapped a hand over his mouth in shock, mentally kicking himself for the words, but they'd just slipped out before his mind had even begun to catch up to recent events. At least, he thought, it was between classes; it wasn't as if the whole school was there to see him go crashing into Nadia Zabini.

"Er, well…no problem, Potter."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was embarrassing enough that he had practically barrelled headfirst into the very pretty girl, but he found himself eternally grateful that she hadn't noticed his usage of –

"We haven't talked before, have we?

Harry felt his heart sink. "No…I don't think so."

"Then…er, how did you know my name?"

Harry's cheeks flushed red. "Well, you know," he mumbled. "Hermione knows everything."

He stood up slowly, wincing at the sharp pain in his ankle as he did so.

"Granger, eh?" Nadia smirked slightly before holding out an arm to him. "Well, fair's fair, Potter – you helped me out on the train, I'll help you out now."

"Thanks, but I'm fine."

"Really?" she asked him, and Harry, still thoroughly flushed, went even redder. "It doesn't look like you'll be able to walk on that."

Frowning slightly, he reluctantly took her arm, hobbling along beside her towards the infirmary. They were silent as they walked, Nadia apparently completely at ease with helping him, and Harry simply due to a lack of anything to say. He couldn't help stealing glances her way; the clear blue of her eyes that reminded him so very much of Sirius - he knew that now – focussed on the hallway before them. Even though he was limping, she was walking quite smoothly; slowly, but steadily, just like the steady, amused gaze she had now fixed on him.

"See something you like?" She chuckled slightly. "Did you _really_ ask Granger who I was?"

Harry, who was growing angry at her incredibly nonchalant attitude, stopped short, yanking her back in the process. "Well, seeing as _you _practically ran me over on the train, yeah, I was wondering who you were."

He glared at her, pulling his arm out of hers before beginning to make his own way towards the infirmary. Behind him he heard her sigh, quickly followed by her footsteps as she caught up to him.

"Look, Potter, I was just checking to make sure you weren't going to go all dodgy on me like you did with Chang."

Too annoyed now to be properly embarrassed, Harry merely stared at her for a moment before taking the arm she'd re-offered. "I learnt my lesson there, thanks."

"Ah, yes, that didn't go too well, did it?" When Harry remained silent, she grinned wryly at him. "But I don't know what you saw in her in the first place."

Against his better judgement, Harry found himself reflecting her smile and echoing the sentiment. "I thought she was pretty," he shrugged.

"Chang? Well…I suppose you'd think that." Harry stiffened at that, slowing down ever so slightly until she shook her head and continued. "Just going on what I hear from Blaise."

They were silent once more after that, Harry not sure whether she had just insulted him or not. After a few minutes, though, the silence seemed to weigh heavily down on him, so much so that he found himself blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Blaise…he's your uncle, right?"

Nadia gave him a cool stare. "Are you _sure_ you don't fancy me? You've certainly asked around quite a bit for a girl who just 'ran you over' the one time."

"Well, right now, I don't like you very much," Harry said loudly, thoroughly grateful for the appearance of the infirmary in the distance. "So, yeah, I think it's safe to say that there's about as much chance of me fancying you as there is of me fancying Malfoy."

Nadia, Harry noted with some satisfaction, snorted before quickly regaining her cool demeanour.

"Whatever strikes your fancy." She returned, her eyes betraying her face as they sparkled with a life that Harry had only fleetingly seen in Sirius's. "Or rather, _whomever_." Patting his arm gently, she smiled at him before pulling her arm out of his. "Well, it _has_ been a pleasure, Potter. Now we're even."

"What?" Harry asked, belatedly realizing that they had already reached the infirmary. "Oh, right. Then…er…"

Nadia, however, had already walked off without so much as a backward glance, leaving a distinctly annoyed Harry to hobble towards the rapidly approaching Madam Pomfrey.

"What _have_ you done now, Mr. Potter?" she began, and Harry began to relax as she started the all-too familiar ritual of fussing over him. Some things, he decided, were best not to think about, and Nadia Zabini was one of them.

_

* * *

London England, October 1996_

One didn't dwell on certain things; at least, not until it was absolutely necessary, and now, Remus realized, was one of those times. He shook his head as he strolled along the dimly lit streets, trying to free it of the conversation that seemed to be playing itself out in his mind. _It was bloody fifteen years ago!_ he told himself, but James's shaky voice and terrified look that day in the Three Broomsticks had suddenly come back to him earlier that night, robbing him of any decent chance at sleep. He'd obviously been trying to tell him about their decision to make Peter their secret-keeper; in hindsight, it was quite plain to see, but one particular phrase had stuck in his conscious.

_'…there's been this whole mess with Lily…'_

"Oi! Watch where you're going!"

Remus blushed and slowed; apologizing to the petite woman he'd ploughed down in his absent-mindedness. Yes, and then there was Cassandra, who had been…_say it, Remus, just say it…_murdered so soon after that awful Halloween. _'I'll take care of it'_ Peter had said, but Harry had survived, Voldemort left little more than a shadow of his former self, and so Peter had fled, along with most of the Deatheaters. Why, then, at a time when it would have made sense just to leave her alone, did someone bother to kill her?

But Cassandra had been trying to tell him something just before she died; he was sure of it. Remus frowned, valiantly trying to ignore the fact that he'd thrown her out of his flat just hours before her body was found, had physically removed her from his home when she'd mentioned Sirius. _Of course…Sirius! _She must have overheard something; walked in on a conversation that 'wasn't really happening', Remus thought, his chest tightening. She'd discovered his innocence; why else would they have killed her? _Yes, that was it…and she tried to tell me, but I…didn't listen; and so she died, and Sirius stayed in Azkaban…_

Overcome, Remus leaned against the wall of a nearby house; grateful for the shadows it afforded him as tears of guilt and pain ran down his face. It took him several minutes before he was able to move on, having convinced himself that he had been so incapacitated with grief that he couldn't have possibly done anything else. Feeling somewhat less heavy of heart, he began to make his way homewards, comforted by the knowledge that he'd solved the mystery surrounding Cassandra's death.

But still…there it was, in the back of his mind, waiting for him to lie down again, and then, in the stillness of the night, he'd hear the scared, confused voice of James Potter once more.

_'…there's been this whole mess with Lily…'_

_

* * *

Hamilton Canada, October 1996_

Gabriella smiled as the smoke issuing from the end of her wand suddenly turned a vivid blue. _Ah, there you are, Juliana…_

"Augustus?"

"Madam Zabini?"

"Please tell Lucius that we may have located his aunt; I am sure he would want to be here for this."

She smirked at the look on the man's face, enjoying even more the scowl displaying on his face when he went to check the floating map-like screen stretched out and found, much to his evident displeasure, the small sparkling dot indicating a magical presence near the far-right corner.

"Did someone call my name?"

Gabriella turned, pleased, towards the newest inhabitant of the medium sized room. "It appears that Juliana is quite nearby; within a few hundred meters, I presume."

One silvery eyebrow arched elegantly at her announcement, the corner of Lucius's lips following it upwards in a smirk as she raised her wand to him. "Ah, the _Investigo…_I have always maintained, Gabriella, that Hogwarts is in no way necessary for the _essentials_ of a _proper_ education."

She flushed then, but held his gaze, too proud to return his jibe at the fact that she'd never finished school. Her spell _was_ impressive, fine-tuning the locator spell that the five of them had cast upon their arrival in Canada; she took pleasure in the fact that Malfoy knew she had most likely saved them days of valuable time in searching with her own spell-casting

It was not long, in fact, before Gabriella, Pettigrew and Malfoy were making their way with barely concealed disdain through the parking lot of what appeared to be a rather large supermarket.

"Remind me again," Pettigrew began. "How exactly are we sure that this person is _actually_ Mrs. Malfoy?"

Malfoy turned to him, the disgust evident on his face. "_Potter_, Pettigrew, she's a _Potter._ She is no longer a member of _my _family."

Gabriella found herself fighting back a smile at the momentary look of horror on the portly man's face before he managed to bring himself in check.

"Juliana Potter, then…how do we know that it is her?"

Malfoy remained silent; Gabriella sighed, but put her hand on Pettigrew's arm to pull him back slightly. "She was, however, born a Malfoy, and so, like all children born to…_proper_ pureblood families, she was marked, with the _Investigo_. She should be the only one marked with it in this area."

"So…it has to be Juliana, then?"

She looked witheringly at him; this man was supposed to be the one _running_ this mission… "I do believe that is what I said, yes."

"Gabriella?"

Malfoy was standing at the wide glass doors of the building, his arms held tightly at his sides as if in fear of catching a noxious disease lest anything non-magical so much as brushed him. Gabriella breathed a sigh of relief as Pettigrew excused himself to join Nott around the side of the store.

"Shall we, my dear?"

"Of course, Lucius."

As they entered, both unnerved by the doors sliding open as soon as they approached them, a compact silver car pulled up to the entrance. After kissing the driver, a dark-haired, visibly pregnant young woman got out, strolling leisurely towards the trolleys before selecting one and entering the supermarket.

Gabriella frowned; her wand was vibrating now; a sure sign that Juliana was very close by.

"Is it…?" Malfoy asked, his hand inside his robes and gripping what was obviously his own wand. He swivelled his head around, only catching a glimpse of a vaguely familiar looking young woman disappearing behind an aisle. Gabriella swung round to look in the direction he was staring.

"That's not…she's too young."

"Yes, of course; and Juliana has fair hair."

Gabriella frowned again. "She may very well have coloured it, Lucius; or be under a muggle glamour of some sort, even if she cannot use magic."

"Then we shall be guided by _our_ magic, no?"

She smiled at him, straightening up and allowing her wand to point them in the correct direction.

"This way, Lucius."

The young woman gave a nervous laugh as her cell rang, smiling sheepishly at the slightly irritated looks she got from nearby customers.

"Hullo?"

"Déla? Baby, it's me…"

"James? Oh, hi…didn't you just drop me off?"

Gabriella smiled as they turned up an aisle selling various condiments, the wand directing them ever more insistently. Malfoy, however, still appeared to be rather puzzled.

"That girl, Gabriella…I'm _sure_ I've seen her face before."

Both of them smirked as the voice of a young woman floated over from the aisle to their right.

"Yeah, baby…I'll pick it up…uh hunh…and…yeah…allright."

"_Muggles_."

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the look of revulsion on her companion's face.

"Oh…yes, yes, of course. Okay. Yes. So…I'll be out in another half-hour. Okay. I love you too."

Suddenly Gabriella felt her wand jerk to the right, pointing her straight through the stacked produce.

"Just up here…" she told Malfoy, who had now drawn his own wand. They quickly made their way to the end of the aisle, turning to the right once they reached the end.

Adéla sighed as she put her cell away, looking up at the store signs overhead. 'Right,' she thought. 'pasta sauce…oh, good, that's just right over in that aisle.' She smiled as she felt movement within her.

"Oh, you like the sound of that, do you?" Patting her rather rounded stomach lightly, made her way to the end of the aisle, chuckling to herself as the baby continued her feather-like kicks. "Sure, do the butterfly now, and go for the jackhammer at night when I want to sleep."

Still smiling, Adéla Zabini turned left towards aisle three. Smiling just as broadly, Gabriella Zabini stepped out of aisle 3 and turned right.

**

* * *

A/N: Evil, aren't I? Feel free to yell at me – you know I love reviews! Speaking of reviews…**

**power214063**: Rebecca? Hm…I may do that, you know; she's really starting to sound like a Rebecca to me.

**Nineida**: See? I'm still going!

**FroBoy**: I dunno about _soon_…but I'm trying my best!

**tweeny weeny**: Erin will be in the baby's name for sure, whether or not it's Natalie Erin or Rebecca Erin, both of which I really like. Yeah, they'll meet up; but I guarantee you, you'll want to kill me when it happens.

**XDragonxTearsx **: Yeah…soon? Haha…well, if you all review and bug me, I'll update surprisingly fast.

**Cherrysinger**: Holidays, eh? I'm going on them soon myself; but I really hope to have this story finished by then (here's a hint; it'll all be over by Christmas 1996). Less confuzzling? Yes! Although I might have gone back to confusing territory with this one… smiles sheepishly …hope you like it though!

**Swordsmistress**: you're posting, eh? Hah – two chaps out already! Even though I've got the…er…big picture, believe me, I can't wait to see what happens next either.

Once more, everyone – review, even if its just to tell me I'm mean for pulling a cliffhanger - Laren


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** If you still haven't got the idea, there's really no point in me repeating myself, is there?

**A/N:** Look at me…I'm finally typing this up! Now we shall see if anyone is actually still reading, though…

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 11

_Hamilton Canada, October 22nd, 1996_

Green light…everywhere…people yelling…a baby crying…green light.

Hogwarts, October 22nd, 1996 

"And you move your wand so – and say…wait for it…_Dormir._ Has everybody got that? No? Just a small half-turn here…and…yes, very good, Miss Granger, just like that, and – _Dormir!_"

Ron grinned at Harry, who was looking rather apprehensive as the redhead twirled his wand.

"Alright, do me first, mate – I had this _really_ great dream last night and-"

"Sure, Ron, that's all I need to know," Harry said loudly. "Just sit down first."

"Oh, yeah," Ron enthusiastically agreed. "I hadn't thought of that. Be a bit painful, wouldn't it, just keeling right over li-"

"_Dormir._"

And Ron keeled right over, the sound of his head hitting the desk making a small thud.

"Harry!"

He turned, grinning quite unapologetically to the indignant looking Hermione. "What?" he asked her. "Look at him – he's enjoying himself."

Much to her immediate regret, Hermione turned and glanced at Ron's rather pleased looking face.

"Oh, _no_, Harry, wake him up. I did _not _need to see that. Boys, honestly!"

"Oi!" Harry protested, looking hurt. "I'm standing right here!" The protest, though, was articulated with a lot more enthusiasm than he felt. The nervousness of moments earlier was welling up again, threatening to engulf him by the time he'd woken Ron up and was staring down the business end of his best friend's wand. He gave one last, slightly panicked glance to Hermione, who caught it and turned worriedly to Ron.

"You know, Ron, maybe you should practice on me,"

And suddenly he was staring at himself – but it was wrong, somehow – just a little bit off, but enough to make him feel more than a little disturbed. He was older, yes, at least ten years older, and…his eyes. Harry realized that he was staring at _brown_ eyes, instead of his mother's vivid green, and the glasses around them were different, too. Frowning, his mouth fell open in surprise when not-quite-right-Harry frowned back at him, bringing up his right hand as Harry raised his left…

A mirror! His attention, though, was swiftly diverted by the fact that a small, curly haired girl had just wrapped herself around his leg. Inwardly astonished, he found that he was reaching down and gathering the child in his arms, who murmured something that sounded suspiciously like 'Daddy' to Harry's dream-fogged brain before laying her head down on his shoulder.

"Hi, Becca," he heard the dream-Harry say, and he froze. He _knew_ that voice. Sometimes, at night, when it was very quiet, he could just hear it in the back of his mind, saying soothing things to him, reading stories, not to mention the fact that he had a very vivid memory of it, one that he didn't like to think about, one that he'd regretted ever seeing in Snape's Pensieve.

"James?"

Once again, Harry found himself staring into another pair of eerily familiar eyes, this time a bright blue framed by long, black lashes. Despite his inward shock, the woman who looked just like an older version of Nadia Zabini smiled brightly at him, holding out her arms and taking the girl from him.

"There you are, sweetheart," she said. "Are you tired, Becca?"

And then he woke up.

_

* * *

Hamilton Canada, October 15th, 1996_

James woke up, rolled over onto his back, and stared at the roof of his car for what seemed like hours. It wasn't until his phone began to ring that he started back to reality, flushing guiltily when he realized that it was probably Adéla on the other end; Adéla, his _wife_, who was seven months pregnant with their daughter. _But that doesn't mean that you can't think about 'her',_ an inner voice said, and his conscience momentarily soothed, James sat up a little bit straighter. Valiantly attempting to cease thinking about Lily as he struggled to reach the phone, her green eyes kept appearing his mind, frustrating him to such a point that he pummelled his fist into the seat beside him when the phone stopped ringing just as he reached it.

Banging his head back into the headrest in irritation, he wondered why he found it so hard to stop dwelling on thoughts of his long-dead wife. He should have been grinning like an idiot, after dreaming of what looked to be a happy future with Adéla and their little girl – _so we decide on Rebecca after all,_ he mused, - but something had been off…it had been…

Green eyes.

It had only been for a split second, but they'd flashed momentarily in his mirror reflection, just as he'd experienced a sensation of being shared, as if there were two of him, fighting for dominance within one body. But that green…

Lily.

_Harry._

_

* * *

Hogwarts, October 22nd, 1996_

"Harry, _don't_ – I'm telling you, you shouldn't just go and- "

But, completely disregarding Hermione's rather frantic warning, Harry was already halfway down the crowded hallway to where Nadia was standing, with Blaise and a rather vapid-looking blond girl and so obviously bored that when Harry's rather unmistakeable mop of hair appeared nearby, a vast smile of relief spread across her face before she could help herself. By the time he had reached her, though, she had managed to compose herself, studiously pretending to be interested in the increasingly one-sided conversation between Blaise and the adoring girl.

"So, you really don't?" she asked him, only turning to look at him when he sighed.

"I really don't." Harry said tiredly, holding up a hand. "I just wanted to say – oh, bloody hell."

Nadia coolly raised an eyebrow, but the sparkle of amusement in her eye that Harry was fast beginning to recognize gave away her curiousity. "I already told you that we're even, Potter."

Looking around furtively, Harry leaned away from her. "Look, just keep this in mind – I _really_ don't fancy you, all right?"

"You don't?" Blaise suddenly said, completely abandoning any pretence he had of listening to the now annoyed looking blond. Both Nadia and Harry swivelled to look him, but unlike Harry, who was rendered momentarily speechless with an overwhelming desire for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, Nadia merely glared angrily at the tall, dark-haired boy, irritation seemingly spilling out of her.

"Who knows?" she smirked. "Maybe he does."

"I _don't_." Harry repeated firmly, having found his tongue again. "Look, Zabini, I just wanted to talk to Nadia."

"Talk to _Nadia_?" Blaise looked mockingly incredulous, and then smirked, looking uncannily similar to his niece. "Since when were the two of you on a first names' basis?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort that Blaise could bloody well mind his own business when, much to his shock Nadia stepped in and calmly informed Blaise what – or rather, _where_ he could go and place his own damn business and leave the two of them alone before dragging him off to a slightly less crowded corner of the hall.

"Yes, yes, we Slytherins are a right pain in the arse – I've heard it all before, Potter, so don't go off about that. Now look; you'd better have something seriously good to say – I don't like it when people waste my time."

Harry blinked rather stupidly. Despite the lazy, hot summer afternoon drawl that was Nadia's voice, the past few seconds seemed to have flown by so very quickly that he was left with his head spinning and therefore, completely muddled.

"I had a dream about you." he blurted out. Wincing inwardly at his extreme lack of tact, he found himself surprisingly impressed with Nadia's level of control. She'd managed to keep her mouth from dropping open and it was only the split second widening of her eyes that gave away her shock.

"You dreamt about me." She repeated flatly, and Harry felt his face flush red.

"Well, not- "

"You. Dreamt. About. Me."

"That's the thing, see,"

"Dreamt. About _me._"

"It wasn't about you!" Harry said hurriedly, before Nadia could repeat herself once more.

Nadia frowned. "It wasn't?" she asked, all of her usual cool long gone at the recent turn of events. "But you said…"

"You were in it." Harry patiently explained, and her disbelieving stare returned.

"So – you dreamt about me?"

"Look," Harry said, pulling her further away from the curious onlookers in the hallway. "I had a dream – and at the _very end_ – you, but a slightly older you, came in. All I know is that she looked like you, all right?"

"Right."

Nadia looked levelly at Harry, then down at their hands, Harry having grabbed hers in a desperate bid to make her understand him. Confused, Harry followed her gaze, then dropped her hands as he rolled his eyes.

"I don't fancy you, Nadia."

"Yeah, so you've said." She returned, but lacking the usual sarcasm. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. "So this woman looked like me, you say?"

Feeling intensely relieved that she was finally taking him seriously, began to tell her the dream, conveniently forgetting the fact that his older self had his father's eyes, voice, and name. Nadia listened, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips as Harry spoke, developing into a wide grin by the time he'd finished.

"Pot…_Harry_, you do realize that you had a dream, about you, and me, as adults, living together…with a _child…_AND YOU TOLD ME! Harry, I _know_ that you don't fancy me…but…you haven't really had much experience with girls, have you?"

Harry threw up his hands, utterly frustrated. "Alright, alright, leave off, okay? Let's just say – alright – that for some really strange reason, I am just _dying _to get into your knickers, and, being the complete idiot that I am when it comes to girls- "

"Complete idiot in general." Nadia helpfully corrected.

"-complete idiot that I am, maybe I just don't understand my-" he grimaced. "- deep and intense feelings for you on a conscious level yet. But that's not the point! Something – something was off. It wasn't you, but it _was_ you…and…"

"Potter," Nadia snapped, her smile gone and her look rather chilly. "You're a complete nutcase; you do know that?"

"Yeah, and you're pretty loony yourself, Zabini," Harry told her, crossing his arms and turning away. When, behind him, he heard her sigh and felt her hand on his shoulder, he turned back, smirking at her.

"Then again, maybe…maybe _you_ fancy _me_."

"Please, Potter," Nadia grinned wickedly at him. "Only in your dreams."

In spite of himself, Harry found that he was grinning back at her. "Alright – well, look, if you discover a long-lost twin or something, let me know."

"You know this means you'll owe me again, Potter."

Harry shrugged. " I think you'd better go and rescue your uncle from that girl."

Nadia's eyes shot daggers at him. "Don't dismiss me, Potter," she spat. "And _don't _call him my uncle."

Harry simply walked away from her, thoroughly he pleased that he had left with the upper hand for once.

"Oh, _no_," Hermione said upon seeing him. "You look far too smug for your own good. Now, _please_ tell me that you didn't tell her that…oh…no…you…" she faltered momentarily at the affirmative look on his face. "Harry, sometimes, you're just…"

"I know," Harry interrupted her, affecting the air of someone who is completely at ease with themselves and pitying the world around them for not being able to do the same. "I'm a complete idiot, in general, and especially when it comes to girls. Anyway, we're going to be late for Potions and-"

"Late for _Potions_!" Hermione's voice rose an octave. "Snape will murder us before we even get to our seats…"

And Harry suddenly found himself being dragged once more down the crowded halls at alarming speeds, brushing momentarily past Nadia as he went. Seemingly seconds later he was in Potions, seated beside the attentive-looking Hermione as Snape strode into the room. Soon, however, he became aware of a slip of paper inside his left fist, and frowning, he surreptitiously opened it beneath his desk. It was hastily scribbled, and the writer's handwriting was obviously on the verge of complete descent into chicken scratch, but its message was still clear.

_Harry, I had a sister._

_-Nadia_

_P.S: Seeing as you hopefully _don't_ have any knickers for me to subconsciously desire entry to, I think it is safe to say that I most certainly do not, on any level, fancy you._

_

* * *

Hamilton Canada, October 22nd, 1996_

Green – flying – everywhere. Adéla's face was reddened with embarrassment as she was herded away by the store manager, who, noting her obvious pregnancy, was determined to see her out of harm's way.

"It happens every day, my dear," the older gentleman was saying. "I will have a chat with our boys in that department; those canned peas should not have been stacked there – right between those aisles. I'm terribly sorry, Ms…"

"Potter," Adéla sniffed. "Mrs. Potter. Um – do you mind if I give my husband a ring, then? I'm so very sorry; I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

For a second, the image of the regal but strangely dressed blond man and brunette flashed through the manager's mind, a silvery, luminescent…barrier…in front of them as they fell back from the unexpected cascade of green cans. At Adéla's continued sniffing, though, he quickly came back to himself, gesturing towards a nearby phone. "Oh, no, my dear, not at all – here – please, go ahead, call your husband."

Nodding shakily, Adéla declined the proffered phone and pulled out her phone instead. When no one answered the first time, he worriedly offered her the store phone once more, only for Adéla to redial on her cellular. He smiled encouragingly as it rang again, looking vastly relieved when someone picked up.

"Déla?"

"Hi, James – where are you?"

"I'm just down the street, baby…" the voice paused, and suddenly became rather suspicious. "Why?"

"Nothing – just…can you come by and pick me up?"

Now the voice on the other end was low and serious, and for some reason, the manager found himself looking around nervously. "Déla, where-ever you are right now; just stay there – I'll come inside and…"

"James, don't be ridiculous. I just had a small accident, but I'm fine, _we're_ fine, no – James – no – _James_, I'll be outside. I could do with the fresh air right now."

Rolling her eyes theatrically at the manager, Adéla hung up and stood, gathering her belongings. "Thank you so much, sir; my husband is on the way."

"Well, if you're truly fine, Mrs. Potter, then let me escort you outside. Are you sure that-"

Adéla smiled, but the rather steely look in her eyes made it clear that her mind wouldn't change in the near future. "I do appreciate your concern, sir. Now if you don't mind…"

Peter Pettigrew stared as the blue car pulled up to the entrance of the supermarket, the young woman he'd been gazing at moving towards it. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was quite obviously, by her clothing and large belly, muggle and pregnant, he would have sworn that he was staring at Gabriella Zabini. She was muggle, though, and being helped into the car by…

_No._

It_ couldn't_ be, he knew he was dead – but the Juliana hadn't been dead, had she? No, no, they'd never found her body, but they'd seen his, hadn't they?

He watched, staring in horrified fascination as the James Potter look-alike kissed the Gabriella look-alike before heading around to his side of the car and driving away. Seconds later, Malfoy and Gabriella burst through the doors, wands drawn as they both looked around wildly. Confused, Peter quickly went to them, ploughing down unsuspecting muggles in his path.

"Malfoy – what…did you see that woman?"

The two, however, paid him no heed. "I sensed it!" Gabriella hissed. "She was right here!"

A horrible suspicion started to form in Peter's mind. "You mean…a magical person with the _Investigo_ on them was right here?"

_He was from an old, old family_ – and the horror began to set in – _it could have been him…_

Malfoy had finally noticed him, though he stared at Peter with a look of intense distaste. "Did you not see her, Wormtail?"

"She looked like…Gabriella…" Peter managed, his mind still reeling with the mere possibility that _James Potter_ was alive. Gabriella still took no notice of his shock, the only indication that she had even heard him speak given by the furrowing of her brow. Malfoy, however, fixed Peter with a cold, calculating gaze.

"Young? With child?"

Malfoy's words did, at least, manage to bring Gabriella out of her studied concentration as she turned to him, her face scornful. "You can't possibly be listening to his nonsense, Lucius?"

"About – oh – in her early twenties, you'd say?" Malfoy continued, quite blithely ignoring the look of intense displeasure on her face.

"Yes…" Peter squeaked, then cleared his throat in embarrassment. "I'd say that, yes."

Smiling now, Malfoy turned to Gabriella, whose face was wooden. "Forgive me, my dear, for having the audacity to re-open what must have been a personal and devastating loss, but didn't your eldest daughter – who looked remarkably like you, I must add – suffer an untimely and tragic death some years ago? She would have been about…oh, say…twenty-three, perhaps twenty-four, now?"

Gabriella, the fury tangibly building up within her, did not even deign to look Malfoy in the face but stared straight ahead, her eyes boring holes into whatever chanced to pass in front of them. "Yes, it _is_ a rather _personal_ subject, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy smiled like a cat now, clearly enjoying himself before he assumed a solemn expression and took one of her hands in his, patting it gently. "Gabriella, my dear Gabriella – it happens, unfortunately, to the best of us. No one thinks any the less of you – especially when your lovely daughter Nadia is such a _wonderful_ example of pureblood…_finesse_."

She turned to him then, gracing him with a brief half-smile, and Peter let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Soon, though, he was sent to fetch Rookwood and Nott and bring them to their meeting place, where Gabriella and Malfoy were already hastily reconstructing the intricate spell-work that they'd dismantled in their absolute surety of finding Juliana. It wasn't though, until over two hours had passed that the large screen flickered to life; and, much to their extreme disappointment, the sparkling magical dot had long disappeared. For a split second both Malfoy and Gabriella looked furiously murderous, the temperature in the room seeming to drop several degrees in one instant.

Both, though, quickly regained their outer masks, the beasts of fury restrained behind time-tried facades of composure.

"We will wait two days." Gabriella announced, Malfoy nodding in agreement. "And then we must move on."

_

* * *

Huntsville Canada, October 22nd, 1996_

"Two days, hmm…"

"Three, baby, three – it's Thanksgiving; we get Monday off, remember?"

Adéla turned, smiling delightedly to James. "Should we make a room up at the cottage for the baby? I know you want to move…but I think we should keep the cottage."

"Mm," James agreed, "Yeah, let's keep the cottage. Oh, there's the Sobey's – let's just get all the groceries we need here. Now, Déla…are you _sure_ you want to go in? There could be dangerous stacks of canned peas just lurking around the corner-"

"James!" Adéla cried exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at the boyishly mischievous expression on his face. "It could have happened to _anyone_."

"Of course it could, baby, and I'm sure, that being pregnant right now, things may be a little bit strange for you - "

"Potter, you're lucky I'm already married to you. If you _ever, _ever bring that up again…"

"Look, we're here!" he said cheerfully, parking the car. Grinning widely at her, he jumped out of the car to help her out. When she frowned at him, he bent down to kiss her gently. "Let's just have a great weekend, okay?"

Adéla looked momentarily aloof before eyeing him rather haughtily. "I accept your truce," she informed him, before smiling happily. "Alright – let's get that pasta."

**

* * *

A/N: Finally! Did you know that this was written…oh let's see…about three weeks ago (don't hit me!) but I just haven't had time to type it up! Who knew that having a full-time job is so very…_full-time_! To the few of you who still actually reviewed…oh, you absolutely made my day. Please keep on telling me what you all think!**: Finally! Did you know that this was written…oh let's see…about three weeks ago (don't hit me!) but I just haven't had time to type it up! Who knew that having a full-time job is so very…! To the few of you who still actually reviewed…oh, you absolutely made my day. Please keep on telling me what you all think! 

**tweeny-weeny**: It's Rebecca Erin! And James most certainly isn't all that clueless; in fact, he knows that Sirius was in Azkaban. And yes, he still didn't go back – what a jerk!

**Cherrysinger:** oh, I would LOVE to publish something one day! But right now, I can only hope; that's why I love feedback so much…I want to improve! And it isn't so much writer's block anymore, as much as it is that thanks to my having an extremely active and vivid imagination, I often have so many story lines going on in my head that I get lost! But I'll try and get another chap up soon.

Kira6: Kira, hmm? I have a good friend called Kira…and yes, I agree with you entirely, Harry should be royally mad that James pretty much abandoned him…but there will be some atonement. In a way. Well, at least…er, you'll just have to keep on reading! 

**Lovin'Moony**: well, actually, when I was writing the dream sequence, the name Rebecca just seemed to fit better; so I was like – well then, Becca it is! Glad you like it, though, and the whole jumping around (heads up – we will be jumping back into the past again soon!) – this is the first time I've written a story using that style and I'm glad that it hasn't been a complete failure!

Once more, thanks to those who reviewed; that's what keeps me writing! Anything you want to say, any questions, raves or rants – review and let me know! – Laren.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: Don't own this. I own other things, though, which I will one day publish. Hopefully.

**A/N**: So…don't line up to hurt me now, seeing as it's been MONTHS since I've posted…because at the end of this, you're going to want to hurt me even more.

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter12

_Unknown Location, England, 1981_

"Finite Incantatem," the voice whispered, a little bit louder than it should have been thanks to an odd mixture of smugness and relief that its owner was feeling. Shutting the door tightly behind him, Peter Pettigrew sighed deeply before staring at his wand in a combination of fascination and horror. The unassuming, reddish stick of wood could either save him or damn him, all depending on when and into whose hands it fell.

'But it's just a safeguard,' he told himself, taking a deep, calming breath to soothe his nerves. 'If – no, _when_ it all happens, then I won't need it.'

Still he frowned, even deeper so as he cast the spell in question, blue smoke pouring out of his wand to form a screen upon two figures were depicted, undeniably Peter Pettigrew and James Potter.

"There's…just been so much trouble with Lily, lately," screen James was saying. "I hate that it has to be this way, Pete, but…if you do this for me…"

"It'll all be taken care of, Prongs," screen Peter assured him. "I understand."

'And I _should_ be crying with relief right now,' the real Peter thought. That day;s meeting was supposed to be their last before it all happened; he'd recorded every single one of those conversations. But there had been just a hint of doubt in James's voice, just a little bit too much suspicion in his eyes for Peter to be truly comfortable, and so, minutes before he was to leave for Godric's Hollow to become the Potters' Secret Keeper, he knelt down in front of his fireplace, calling for one Miss. Cassandra Rosier.

"Cassandra?" he began once she appeared in the fire. "I'm really sorry to disturb you, but if you could do me a favour, I'd greatly appreciate it."

* * *

_Cass Rosier's flat, England, 1981_

Cassandra stared, momentarily mesmerized by the shimmering surface of the pensieve Peter had dropped off; something, apparently, for Remus, that he and James had been working on, but didn't want him to find just yet. 'Huh,' Cassandra thought. 'Remus's birthday isn't for another nine months – and Christmas is a full two months off…' Shaking her head, she placed it carefully inside the cardboard box she'd pulled out of storage, labelling it 'Pensieve' in her careful, flowing script.

"Cass?" Remus's voice came suddenly, and she started, quickly shoving back into the furthermost corner of her closet before hurrying out of her room to greet the newly arrived Remus.

"I'm here, Remus…hi!"

Six months later, having managed to salvage some of Cassandra's possessions before her family took all that had belonged to their now dead daughter, Remus found himself holding a large brown box stating that it contained a pensieve in Cassandra's distinctive script.

"I wasn't supposed to show you!" she had cried, unable to restrain her laughter at the stern expression on Remus's face. "Peter and James were working on it; Peter just dropped it off this evening."

He had grinned then, promising not to touch it or mention that he knew of its existence. The next morning though, on that fateful Halloween, he'd stopped by Godric's Hollow, and while holding Harry, blurted out that he knew about the pensieve James and Peter had made. James, predictably, had gone a bit red before laughing it off and remarking that 'Lily gave things away _all_ the time' and that it was 'no harm done'.

But there had been a split second of confusion, intermingled with deep suspicion before James had laughed, and Remus couldn't help but feel unnerved by the look on his friends face. 'Then again', he told himself bitterly, 'James always suspected me, didn't he?'

Fighting back tears, Remus carefully placed the box away inside another, much larger container before closing it tightly.

"I won't think about it," he firmly told himself. "I'll just forget."

And some fifteen years later, the box still went unnoticed.

_

* * *

Unknown Location, Nov 2nd, 1996_

"Ah, Lupin…I see you have survived your transformation," the voice stated, disappointment oozing from every syllable. The tired, rather haggard looking Remus paid it no attention and simply smiled wryly.

"You _do _sound glad to hear it, Severus; I appreciate the sentiment." He returned, before assuming a rather more serious expression. "Professor Dumbledore said that I was to speak to you regarding what I missed at yesterday's meeting."

"Oh, yes," Snap grudgingly admitted, before sighing as he took a seat in the armchair opposite Remus. The two men were in the large sitting room of the old house, the roaring fireplace between them giving the otherwise cold, high-ceilinged room some much needed warmth. But, despite the fact that it was a rather chilly November, the house, who's owner Dumbledore had so far declined to identify, felt much warmer and far more welcoming than the dank, dark corridors of their former headquarters at Grimmauld Place.

And, much to their surprise, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin had found the reason for their great relief upon leaving it to be mutual; no longer did they feel so haunted by Sirius Black. Even stranger, the two found themselves closer than ever, and so it was that the tall Potions master was quite civilly reporting the various specifics of the previous day's deliberations.

"I'm not sure I understand, Severus; you said that their mission was…to do what to Malfoy?"

"_I_ understand that your mind is not quite yet up to speed."

Lupin laughed, its hoarseness momentarily echoing the bark-like laughter of his now dead best friend.

"Yes, yes, so, please, go a little slower on this transformation addled mind of mine."

Snape's mouth twitched upwards as the faintest hint of a smile passed across his face, returned in kind by a tired one from Remus. "It is, I suppose, slightly problematic. As far as I have been able to ascertain, Malfoy, Rockwood, Nott, Pettigrew, and a woman have all left the country; perhaps even the continent – and the reason appears to be Malfoy; that is, _a_ Malfoy."

"Ah," Remus nodded his comprehension, and then frowned. "Narcissa is at home, and one would think in a very secure position thanks to this past July – Draco…is something wrong at school?"

"Mm – not that I am aware of, although he was recently betrothed, with the full approval of both his parents to a Miss Nadia Zabini; still, nothing that would supposedly send his father and three other Deatheaters abroad."

"Nadia Zabini? Surprising."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And why, pray tell?"

'Well, Harry's letters have been full of nothing but her these past few weeks', Remus thought, but outwardly waved the query off with a gesture of hand.

"Her elder sister died in rather tragic and mysterious circumstances, so it has been said that she was most likely a squib; so I'm merely surprised that the Malfoys chose Miss. Zabini regardless of that fact."

"Her father is the heir to the Zabini fortune; she is an only child, considered-" Sanpe spat out the word with distaste "-pretty, by her peers; does well academically and although a powerful witch in her own right, has demonstrated a maturity beyond her years in preferring the understated in what she does."

Remus blinked several times before grinning widely, opening his mouth to tease Snape mercilessly for his uncharacteristic praise of a student when the dark haired man smirked.

"She is one of _my_ Slytherins, Lupin, and although a year younger, already rivals some of Granger's scores. Please, let me have my moment of pride."

Remus, however, was frowning again. "Three other Deatheaters?" he queried. "I thought you said…"

"Malfoy, Rookwood, Nott, Pettigrew and a woman, who, unless Voldemort has recruited more women without my knowledge, is _not _Bellatrix and almost certainly not a Deatheater."

Snape almost smiled again as he saw the wheels of Remus's mind turning; the werewolf quickly coming to what he was privately convinced was the right conclusion.

"Personal vendetta, then?

"It would seem so, yes, apparently for this woman; and that would suggest that they are looking for a someone related to Malfoy-"

"-and finding them must further Voldemort's cause if four of them would risk his anger at simply leaving the country for such an extended period of time."

Snape settle back into his chair, staring at the fire rather morosely. "Good, good, so you've grasped the basics, but before we even begin to consider what on earth it is they're doing, we will need to know who the woman is and what personal vendetta the five of them could possibly have in common."

* * *

And that's it, folks, that's as far as I wrote in this story before reading HBP. Which, in doing so, dealt a lethal blow to my love of fanfiction reading and writing; this is the first time I've touched the stuff since I read the book, and that's only to post this last tid-bit. I've thoroughly appreciated all your reviews, but instead of opening up a new world of questions and ideas to write about, HBP pretty much closed it all down. (despite the fact that I tremendously enjoyed the book).

Having said that – I am, at least for the foreseeable future, completely giving up fanfiction; if you see me anywhere on the site, it may be over at the LOTR section, but even that is doubtful. I'm still writing, and getting a lot of original stuff done, but all my stories here are being abandoned for the time being. If anyone would like to continue this story, or even my Summer at the Vale story, just let me know by a review or email; and those I'll probably read; otherwise, this is it.

It's been great, ya'll.

-Laren


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** The extended absence has changed all of nothing. I _still_ don't own any of this. All JKR's.

**A/N**: I'm back! I never thought that I'd be writing this again, but as I was rereading the story the other day, I realized that I just couldn't leave it unfinished. That and I really needed to practice my writing. Therefore…bear with me. It's been a while. _The first section is a little recap from the last chapter_.

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 13

_Unknown Location, Nov 2nd, 1996 _

"Ah, Lupin…I see you have survived your transformation," the voice stated, disappointment oozing from every syllable. The tired, rather haggard looking Remus paid it no attention and simply smiled wryly.

"You do sound glad to hear it, Severus; I appreciate the sentiment." He returned, before assuming a rather more serious expression. "Professor Dumbledore said that I was to speak to you regarding what I missed at yesterday's meeting."

"Oh, yes," Snape grudgingly admitted, before sighing as he took a seat in the armchair opposite Remus. The two men were in the large sitting room of the old house, the roaring fireplace between them giving the otherwise cold, high-ceilinged room some much needed warmth. But, despite the fact that it was a rather chilly November, the house, whose owner Dumbledore had so far declined to identify, felt much warmer and far more welcoming than the dank, dark corridors of their former headquarters at Grimmauld Place.

And, much to their surprise, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin had found the reason for their great relief upon leaving it to be mutual; no longer did they feel so haunted by Sirius Black. Even stranger, the two found themselves closer than ever, and so it was that the tall Potions master was quite civilly reporting the various specifics of the previous day's deliberations.

"I'm not sure I understand, Severus; you said that their mission was…to do what to Malfoy?"

"_I_ understand that your mind is not quite yet up to speed."

Lupin laughed, its hoarseness momentarily echoing the bark-like laughter of his now dead best friend.

"Yes, yes, so, please, go a little slower on this transformation addled mind of mine."

Snape's mouth twitched upwards as the faintest hint of a smile passed across his face, returned in kind by a tired one from Remus. "It is, I suppose, slightly problematic. As far as I have been able to ascertain, Malfoy, Rockwood, Nott, Pettigrew, and a woman have all left the country; perhaps even the continent – and the reason appears to be Malfoy; that is, a Malfoy."

"Ah," Remus nodded his comprehension, and then frowned. "Narcissa is at home, and one would think in a very secure position thanks to this past July – Draco…is something wrong at school?"

"Mm – not that I am aware of, although he was recently betrothed, with the full approval of both his parents to a Miss Nadia Zabini; still, nothing that would supposedly send his father and three other Deatheaters abroad."

"Nadia Zabini? Surprising."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And why, pray tell?"

'Well, Harry's letters have been full of nothing but her these past few weeks', Remus thought, but outwardly waved the query off with a gesture of hand.

"Her elder sister died in rather tragic and mysterious circumstances, so it has been said that she was most likely a squib; so I'm merely surprised that the Malfoys chose Miss. Zabini regardless of that fact."

"Her father is the heir to the Zabini fortune; she is an only child, considered-" Snape spat out the word with distaste "-pretty, by her peers; does well academically and although a powerful witch in her own right, has demonstrated a maturity beyond her years in preferring the understated in what she does."

Remus blinked several times before grinning widely, opening his mouth to tease Snape mercilessly for his uncharacteristic praise of a student when the dark haired man smirked.

"She is one of my Slytherins, Lupin, and although a year younger, already rivals some of Granger's scores. Please, let me have my moment of pride."

Remus, however, was frowning again. "Three other Deatheaters?" he queried. "I thought you said…"

"Malfoy, Rookwood, Nott, Pettigrew and a woman, who, unless Voldemort has recruited more women without my knowledge, is not Bellatrix and almost certainly not a Deatheater."

Snape almost smiled again as he saw the wheels of Remus's mind turning; the werewolf quickly coming to what he was privately convinced was the right conclusion.

"Personal vendetta, then?

"It would seem so, yes, apparently for this woman; and that would suggest that they are looking for someone related to Malfoy-"

"-and finding them must further Voldemort's cause if four of them would risk his anger at simply leaving the country for such an extended period of time."

Snape settled back into his chair, staring at the fire rather morosely. "Good, good, so you've grasped the basics, but before we even begin to consider what on earth it is they're doing, we will need to know who the woman is and what personal vendetta the five of them could possibly have in common."

_A/N: And from here on, folks, it's all new!_

Remus agreed wholeheartedly, and the two began an intricate discussion about family trees, detailed maps and plots soon covering whole sheets of parchment as they studied the various links and relations between the families. Much to their grand disappointment, however, even despite the help they had received from Nymphadora Tonks as to the various Black lineages, they still found themselves at a loss as to the identity of the missing 'link'. Remus, however, couldn't quite shake the thought of Nadia Zabini from his mind; her name was sending his train of thought on wild, random tangents, and he found himself unable to dispel the impression that she was far more central to their problem than a quick glance would suggest. He'd even suggested her name, once, only to be met with a blank look from Tonks and a rather sneering one from Snape.

"You do seem rather fixated on this idea, Lupin – have you information that you have neglected to share with us?"

He'd groaned inwardly – he couldn't really explain why he felt she was so important, and he wasn't even sure that _she_ was their missing link. He'd sighed, leaning back in his armchair. "I…well, all I can truly recall is some sort of scandal; but I really think that this is quite important, Severus."

"Scandal?" Tonks had perked up, quickly distracted from the endless sheets of family histories.

"Ah, yes…Zabini, Zabini…the Great Hogwarts Divide, I believe that was. We were only in our first year at the time. Interesting, but really of no connection to the matter at hand."

Remus, who was already exhausted, had simply shrugged and turned his attention to yet another scribbled sheet of parchment. "If you're sure," he'd said, and yet, now, he was still plagued by the thought that they had missed the crux of the matter in that moment.

'Nadia Zabini,' he thought, fleeting images of a proud, beautiful brunette bouncing a small, black-haired girl on her knee slipping in and out of his mind. 'How do I know you, Nadia?'

_

* * *

Hamilton Canada, Nov 16, 1996_

"They were looking for us, weren't they?"

James turned to his wife, expecting to see fear etched all over her youthful face. She was so very transparent, sometimes – he'd always know when she was happy, sad, or so excited that she was practically bouncing up and down – but now, now, there was nothing. A strange, eerie calmness was exuding from her as she steadily held his gaze, the only thing visible on her features a strong desire to hear the truth.

"I – I don't know." James began, and hastily continued when Adéla raised an eyebrow. "I mean, yes. They were looking, Déla…and they were wizards…I just don't know who they were. Or who they were looking for."

Adéla nodded, leaning forward to kiss his cheek gently. "I was just being silly," she said quietly, smiling shyly at James. "It's not as if my family would have any idea about the baby until it's born, would they?"

Smiling far more enthusiastically than he felt, James put an arm around her, grinning when she smacked him for his fake 'oof!' as she shifted her weight against him. "No, baby, no, they wouldn't know."

He had almost managed to calm down again, to banish the image of her emotionless face from his mind when she spoke, turning to look at him with the same calm gravity of minutes earlier.

"And it's not as if anyone knows you're alive, right?"

It was almost a relief, really, James reflected, looking into eyes that already knew the answer to their question. Granted, there were still many wrongs to be corrected, scores of apologies to be made, but the end had finally begun. Here was the last lie, stripped away and the truth finally laid bare as he told his wife what he should have said long ago.

"My…my aunt Julianna knows I'm alive. And no one else."

"Right…Julianna…Julianna," she appeared to mull this over for a minute before continuing. "Who…correct me if I'm mistaken…was also supposed to be dead? Killed by Deatheaters as revenge?"

And James's relief disappeared, replaced by a hard, cold dread that gripped him so tightly he shivered. Adéla, however, nodded slightly and took his hands in hers.

"For better or for worse, no?" she said, leaning towards him and kissing him. "It's all going to work out, James."

And that, James knew, was exactly true. It was all going to work out, the one fact that without a shadow of a doubt, terrified him the most.

_

* * *

Hogwarts, November 17th, 1996_

WHAM!

The thud of heavy, dusty books hitting the table shocked a pleasantly dreaming Harry into a rather unpleasant, conscious state of affairs, compounded with the equally unpleasant information that he'd been drooling all over his books like a disgusting little boy and could he _please_ pick himself up so that they could have a proper chat about this latest dream of his.

Utterly perplexed, he blearily stared up at a darkish, female figure, who muttered "oh, _please_" under her breath and handed him his glasses.

"Well?" Nadia Zabini demanded, once Harry had been able to process the information that he was now, in fact, awake, and face to face with the rather annoyed looking young woman.

"Well what?" Harry yawned out, now beginning to be more than slightly irritated himself. "What on earth did you have to go and wake me up for? This is prime napping territory, this is! No one ever notices, let alone bothers you round here!"

"_I_ certainly noticed you," Nadia began, but Harry's brain, which had been previously lagging in information uptake, was now fully up to teenage boy speed.

"'Course you did," he smirked.

"Yes, yes, of course…that's why you were dreaming about me again."

"I was not! I was…oh…right. Oh, yeah, that's right – wait…how did you know I was dreaming about you again? And I _wasn't_ dreaming about _you_ – she just _looked_ like you, remember?"

"Sure, Harry, sure," Nadia sighed, setting down her stuffed book bag as she took the chair beside him. "You actually said my name a couple of times. Pretty loudly, too, as if you were calling for me. It's why I came over – but by the time I got here, you were mumbling on about somebody named…Jules, I think it was."

His face bright red, Harry shook his head. "You weren't listening to me. I mean, in the dream, you…your _look-alike_ heard me, but she wasn't responding to your name. And then it was as if I wasn't in control anymore, and I called you something else – I can't remember. It's all a bit fuzzy after that point."

He sighed; expecting yet another sarcastic remark from Nadia about her 'look-alike' but was surprised when she bit her lip, her eyes completely betraying her confusion.

"Are you – are you sure you can't remember what you called me afterwards?" she asked him. "It's just that…"

Harry frowned, trying to recall the dream sequence of minutes earlier. He'd been sitting at a kitchen table, studying his reflection in a glass when he'd noticed the older 'Nadia' out in the hallway; except this time, she'd been quite obviously very, very pregnant, and she'd come when he called her…

"Er, I think it was 'Dela.' Or 'Dayla'. Something like that, I couldn't quite tell. And, Nadia, she was - "

Nadia, however, had gone white, staring at him with such icy blue eyes that Harry had to turn and look away after a moment. "Déla?" she whispered, and Harry relaxed.

"That's what I – he said. Déla."

"Déla."

"Er, yes," Harry reassured her. "That's what it was."

"Adéla."

"I said, yes," Harry repeated, quite bemused. "I mean, not…_A_déla. Just Déla."

"No, you don't understand," Nadia shook herself out of her shocked state. "You know that sister I told you about? The one who died a few years back? The one no one really knows about?"

Harry stared at Nadia for a few moments before shaking his head. "No, no, you've _got_ to be joking. There is no way that…that…"

"That's my sister's name, Harry. Adéla Zabini. Well, that was her name – she died when she was only eight in an accident the year before I was born."

"Alright," Harry slowly said. "So, that would make her, if, she hadn't died, about…twenty-four."

Nadia sighed, leaning her chair back so she rocked back and forth slightly. "Please tell me that she – the girl in your dream - wasn't about that age in the - "

"Yup."

Nadia eyed him interestedly for a moment, her chair coming to a standstill as she rather carefully studied his face.

"You know, Harry," she began, after a moment or two of prolonged silence. "I've never really thought of you as anything special,"

"Why, _thank _you, Nadia," Harry couldn't help interrupting, but was quickly silenced by a glare from the girl beside him.

"As I was saying, I've never really thought that you're particularly extraordinary." She paused for a moment's reflection, and then appeared to remember something else. "You do fly passably well. But – now…I mean, there's no way you should have – or could have known that…her name isn't actually in any of the books with the Great Divide in them…"

"The Great What?" Harry interjected.

"You know – that whole business with my mum and dad, back in the seventies? Yes? Right, well…look, it's just that, you shouldn't know…but you do – you're _dreaming_ it! Harry – well, you're starting to get a little too interesting."

"_Too_ interesting?" Harry's eyebrows went up. "That's what most people like! Harry Potter, walking freak show just waiting to happen."

"I know," Nadia sighed, before smiling wryly at him. "I liked you better when I thought I'd figured out that you were just a normal person like the rest of us."

Harry stared at her for a moment before smiling back at her. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I do believe that you, Zabini, do actually fancy me."

Nadia snorted halfheartedly before grinning at Harry. "Who knows? You tell me, you're the …uh…clairvoyant around here."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry – apparently, it only works for dead people. Your sister, my-"

"Your dad? I'm not stupid, Harry, I'd already figured that much out."

"Well, yes; the point is, you're alive, so you're just going to have to tell me yourself."

Nadia, however, had already drifted off into space. "They never told me exactly how she died, you know. It was always just…an _accident_. In fact, Malfoy once suggested that it wasn't really an accident at all – but then, that's Malfoy for you, isn't it? Always stirring up trouble where it's not wanted."

"What?" she smiled at the look of shock on Harry's face. "Just because I'm a Slytherin doesn't mean that I don't know what he's actually like. Anyway, I _really_ have to know what I'm getting into; I think my parents are planning on marrying me off to him. So, technically, that probably means that I'm not even allowed to fancy you."

Several outraged exclamations ran through Harry's overwhelmed mind, but he was astonished to hear himself calmly ask Nadia if she was really alright with the idea of marrying someone she obviously didn't like.

"Instead of what – marrying you?" She cheekily asked, before standing up and gathering her things. "You know Harry…I know you think that you're the only one whose life is already set out for him. You're always walking around like you've got the weight of Destiny on your shoulders at all times; as if you haven't got a choice in the world and you're just stumbling along trying to do the best you can. Well – it may not be such a big deal to you – but some of us don't really have a choice in life either. There are some things we just have to do."

"Nadia-" Harry began, but was silenced by her quick kiss on the lips.

"See you round, Harry."

**

* * *

A/N: Alright, there you go – I have emerged from the dark abyss of non-writing and hopefully haven't completely lost the little ability I had in the first place. Therefore, any feedback from you is greatly appreciated!**

- Laren


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**: Look who it is! Yes, yes, I know what I said before, but I think you can now pretty much rely on the fact that my posting is utterly unreliable. So enjoy! (This is especially dedicated to Swordsmistress, who is being a good girl and doing her homework instead of reading my story. sniff!)

**Disclaimer**: Do I still need this? Is there honestly anyone out there who doesn't know that this is all J.K.R's?

**Of Cowards and Heroes**

Chapter 14

_Unknown Location, November 19th 1996_

"Gentlemen…"

"Ahem."

"Miss Tonks, my apologies," Albus Dumbledore nodded respectfully towards the grinning young woman before continuing, his tone considerably more serious. "I understand that you have been investigating the matter with regards to Pettigrew?"

Glances were exchanged. They'd all known that they'd be called to account for the hours they'd spent poring over the old family trees, to give answers…and they _had_ got answers…two sets of answers, in fact. Remus sighed, and inclined his head towards the other two.

"Severus, Tonks…"

"Albus," Snape began, "you understand that we had had some delay. There was concern over the woman with them…and we have been unable to identify her as of yet. However, upon further examination, as well as some of my own…ahem…first hand knowledge, we now believe that it is a vendetta, albeit one held by Malfoy."

Remus sat impassively throughout Snape's prepared speech. More likely than not, it was simply a drive for revenge that spurred Malfoy and the others on, and, as Snape was then saying, revenge against one of their own, one of the many who had recanted their support for Voldemort when his first 'reign of terror' had ended. It made complete sense, the logic behind the theory sound. Of course Pettigrew would be involved – his closeness to Voldemort in recent years would ideally place him for such an endeavour, and the others, including Malfoy, were fairly self-explanatory.

The woman…yes, that had presented a slight problem, but as Tonks now took over and pointed out, there was no shortage of Deatheater wives and widows, women who shared their husbands' allegiances and would be only too happy to involve themselves. Still…

"You disagree, Remus?"

The sandy-haired man winced; he should have known that Dumbledore would pick up on his unease. He had, in fact, planned to bring the matter to Dumbledore quietly, to make the older man aware of what was troubling him. Remus had found himself remembering the words he'd spoken to Harry that summer, telling him his own, patched version of Cassandra Rosier's death, and his distress at never knowing the whole story. 'But you solved, that, remember?' an inner voice countered. Remus frowned, and then suddenly realized that everyone around him was silent, not having being privy to his inner ramblings.

"Ah, yes, sorry. I…" he took a deep breath. "I agree that Malfoy desires revenge, but the woman still gives me cause for concern, sir."

He could practically _hear_ Snape roll his eyes, _felt_ Tonks wince beside him, but Dumbledore held his gaze, the clear blue eyes willing Remus to continue.

"The name Zabini springs to mind, sir, and I am at a loss to explain why."

"Not again, Lupin," Snape interjected, unable to contain himself. "How on earth could a fifteen year-old _child_ have _anything_ to do with the matter at hand?"

"Well, a certain sixteen year old has everything in the world to do with it," Remus returned, similarly unable to restrain his tongue. "So perhaps she is involved…in some way or another."

"Disgusting, really," Snape snapped. "a grown man, completely fixated by a mere chit of a girl."

"Severus," Dumbledore cautioned, but Remus, angered for some intangible reason, had already turned rather heatedly towards Snape.

"So now she's simply a 'mere chit of a girl? Why, it was just a couple of weeks ago that you were praising her to the skies. 'One of _my_ Slytherins', I believe it was?"

Tonks, who had been enjoying the drama immensely, perked up, her curiousity getting the better of her. "Wait, wait…is this that scandal business again? The one with…what's her name…Natalie…Natasha…"

Dumbledore's head snapped up. "Nadia? Nadia Zabini? The daughter of Michael and Gabriella Zabini?"

Tonks stopped short, her hand in midair, her question turning into a rather serious statement. "You mean… my aunt Gabriella…Gabriella Black?"

The collective intake of air as all three men considered her words was swift. Dumbledore recovered first, his hands imploring the others to calm down. "The Zabinis are good friends with the Malfoys," he noted, inclining his head towards Severus. "But I understand that they never actually joined Voldemort, like so many others…but their allegiances were somewhat, flexible?"

"They didn't openly join Voldemort," Snape growled, annoyed that Remus' hunch had proved accurate. "They wouldn't have risked that, not after losing so much. It was all thanks to the Aurors of the time…which included one Stephen Potter."

The other two men nodded understandingly; Remus had even begun to rise from his seat, saying that he'd get to work in light of the new development, but Tonks shook her head, her face slightly red.

"Sorry," she began. "Stephen Potter is what relation to Harry? Uncle? Granddad? And I know he's not alive, so why would they be interested in him?"

"Grandfather," Remus said, slowly sitting back down again. Snape was frowning, and Dumbledore seemed to be carrying on a quiet dialogue with an unseen participant.

Snape looked up, suddenly, black eyes rather intently focussed on the wall behind Remus. "They went after him twice, actually," he said, hands working out unseen puzzles. "The first time, they killed his daughter, niece…and sister-in-law…._who had been helping Potter and the Aurors…_"

The last part he'd said in a rush, a rush he was still in as he rose abruptly and swiftly left the room. Dumbledore sighed, the age that came over him when he was worried settling heavily on to his face. Remus hissed, before covering his eyes and groaning slightly.

"What?" Tonks said, anxiously pulling Remus's hand away from his face. "Come on, you can't do that, what happened? Who was she?"

"They never found her body."

Both Remus and Tonks swivelled to look at the headmaster, who was rising, if not as swiftly as Snape had done, and gathering his robes about him.

"Remus, Tonks," he inclined his head slightly. "I am sure you have much to do."

"Alright, you," Tonks turned on Remus as soon Dumbledore had left the room. "Speak. Now."

And Remus told her, told her all about Julianna Malfoy.

_Cassandra Rosier's flat, Halloween, 1981_

The young man was frantically ripping apart boxes in his haste, desperation coming from him in waves. It had to be here somewhere, he _knew_ it was there…that's what Remus had said, and for all his distrust of him over the past few months, James Potter knew that if there was anything he could trust Remus about it was this. Why would he lie? How could he know, otherwise? In his panic, he'd tried to reach Dumbledore – if only he could just explain the whole situation to him – Dumbledore would understand, he would _know_, and then there'd be no more trouble. But the older man had not been at Hogwarts, had not been anywhere that James could find, and so now he was in Cassandra Rosier's small flat, searching haphazardly through what looked like her storage closet.

Suddenly he heard the tell-tale sloshing of a Pensieve, and opened the box the sound came from, hands shaking as he tugged at its flaps. He sagged with relief as the shimmering silver surface came into view, wasting no time in plunging head first into the memories.

After some time, James pulled back, his face calm, pale and strangely still as he packed away the Pensieve. His hands acted as if on auto-pilot as they tidied the now messy closet, moving as if his brain had shut down, his body taking over and propelling him out of her flat and apparating him back to Godric's Hollow. Lily and Harry were laughing in the kitchen when he arrived, his son's baby giggles mixing with her lilting laugh as she flew a spoon around the room towards his open mouth.

The spoon, however, did not reach Harry; it had stopped in midair, Lily frozen at the sight of her husbands face.

"James?" she managed, concern etched onto her features. The only response she received, however, was the thud James made as he slumped onto the nearest chair, collapsing forwards onto the table with his head in his hands.

"Da?" Harry asked, twisting in his high chair to see his father. "Da?"

Lily, finally tearing her gaze away from James' hunched figure, took a deep breath and smiled at the rather confused little boy in front of her. "Daddy's just tired, Harry. Look at mummy, baby, here comes the airplane!"

By the time she'd finished feeding Harry, James had left the room. Even after she'd found him in the study that afternoon, Lily hadn't had the nerve to ask him what had happened. She would have left him there, but she heard the chair scrape back as he stood up, coming towards her with a slight smile on his face.

"Lils," he croaked, his voice slightly raw. "I'm sorry, Lils…today was…hard."

Lily attempted to smile, failed miserably, and found that all she could muster was half laugh, half cough. "Of course," she nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. "I know, James. I know."

He slid his arms around her, then, relieved that she understood, but Lily found that she couldn't keep silent.

"James, its Remus again, isn't it? I know he came by the other day, and you've been off since. James…I know it's hard to trust anyone right now, but please, trust _me_ when I say that Remus means us no harm at all!"

It was evident from her shock that she meant to go on. James's cool "I do, Lils," left her mouth hanging open in an "O' of surprise, and he found himself genuinely grinning at the comical expression on her face. "I trust Remus, Lils."

"…Right. Of course. Sorry – I know – we went through this already." Lily grinned back at her husband, enjoying the relaxed smile on his face. "James,' she said, kissing him. "James Potter…"

"Yes, Mrs. Potter?"

"James, I..."

The large grandfather clock had been a joke present from Sirius, given to commemorate their moving to Godric's Hollow. It chimed every hour, on the hour, ridiculous songs in Sirius's voice pealing throughout the house. James had loved it instantly, but the songs had been changed, at Lily's insistence, to a simple statement of the time. It chimed rather loudly now, announcing to the small family that it was 5 o'clock on the day of October 31st, 1981. Lily sighed, and pulled away from James.

"Well, you'd better get going, hadn't you?"

James stared at her, his face betraying his bemusement. "Er…where, exactly?"

"Aren't you and Peter meeting up today? You said you had to go over a thing or two." The smile left Lily's face, mirroring her husband's deadened expression. "James?"

A few minutes later, James was weaving his way through a crowded pub. 'Yeah, I trust Remus,' he thought, waving to his slightly portly friend in the back of the small room. 'And…I trust Peter too.'

_Hamilton, Canada, November 21st, 1996_

"I trust you, James. Honestly. I…just…England, James, England? You can't be serious."

James sighed; he knew that he hadn't truly earned her trust, and could well understand the deep reluctance she was displaying. They both had pasts there, history…too much history, Adéla would point out, and it was quite reasonable for her to abhor any suggestion of moving back to live in the place they'd both tried to escape.

"No, baby, you don't trust me." He shook his head at her protest, smiling wryly. "And it's not like I've given you a lot of reason to do so, but please, I'm _begging_ you here, Déla, just…hear me through, alright?"

When she nodded, relief flooded his body, drawing him down onto the couch beside her. He wrapped his arms around her as best as he could, earning himself a slight chuckle from her as he caressed her now large bump. He knew his wife, knew that once she'd listened, she'd agree. He spoke softly, haltingly, doing his best to explain why England was the last place anyone would look for them without worrying her too much.

It took her some time, though, to come to terms with the idea, to accept that moving to England was best for them. She favoured Australia, or New Zealand… "What about…the Congo, let's move to the Congo, baby," she said. "Who the hell is going to look for us in the Congo?"

James laughed at that, shook his head, and sighed. "Why the Congo? Why not…Hawaii? Fiji? Tahiti…"

"Yes!" Adéla sat up, her face excited. "Done deal – James we are _so_ moving to Tahiti."

"Mm, yes, yes…" His face grew serious. "Sure, it'll be fine, for a few years, but what happens five years down the road, when we've got at least one little one running around the place and another on the way? How do we pack up and run when they come looking for us then, Déla?"

Silence reigned momentarily, interrupted only by a distant upstairs radio. Adéla was downcast, one hand holding James's hand and the other running constantly through her hair – "I swear, I never did that before I met you, James," she'd said once, "It's contagious!" – until she suddenly looked up at him, twisting her head around to rest on the chair back.

"So." She smiled, but there was little warmth behind it. "Why bother move? Why wait, if it's simply a matter of time?"

James, shrugged. He knew the answer to that question, knew why they should go back. But she wouldn't understand…there was no need to burden her with that right then…and then he laughed.

"What?" she asked him, curiousity piqued by his sudden mood upswing. "James...am I missing the joke, or…"

"You know," James stammered, still laughing. "If I hadn't been such a bloody hero before; If I had just told somebody, _anybody_…all I had to do was tell Lily, instead of keeping it all inside because I was the man of the house…"

Adéla snorted, ignoring the fact that he'd mentioned _her_. "You know how I feel about that crap," she grinned. "Spill, James."

It was so simple, really. And yet…it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. And all he had to do was _tell_ somebody. All this time…

"Don't be a coward, now, come on!" Adéla urged him, and so he told her.

This time it wasn't quite so life-changing a statement; in the long run, quite life-_preserving_, most likely, but nothing too spectacular. In fact, once he'd said that "We'll need protection…when they find us" she'd understood – from that one moment, it had been decided that they'd move back to England, and without any fuss, they'd begun planning in earnest.

_Don't be a coward…_

And the whole time, he'd thought he was such a hero.

A/N: right, there you go, another chapter. If I can promise you one thing, it's that I will actually finish this story. One day. Seriously. Many thanks to all those who reviewed last time around…again, it was a review (from silverlodi) that got me to write this chapter (as usually happens). If you like it, let me know…if you don't…tell me anyway! – Laren.


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